The Nature of the Beast and the Beast of Nature
by chrissyleena
Summary: What happens when, after all that supernatural, alien craziness; the Avengers come across…God. The omnipotent being that created Earth and humanity, kinda. Good news: He exists. Bad news: He's gone. As they race against All That Is Evil to save the Earth, they realize that Fate is a cruel mistress and has a very twisted sense of humor. TonyxBruce, post-Avengers, disregards IM3
1. One - The Insignificance of Life

**The Nature of the Beast and the Beast of Nature**

**Summary: **What happens when, after all that supernatural, alien craziness; the Avengers come across…God. The omnipotent being that created Earth and humanity, kinda. Good news: He exists. Bad news: He's gone. As they race against All That Is Evil to save the Earth, they realize that Fate is a cruel mistress and has a very twisted sense of humor. TonyxBruce, post-Avengers, completely disregards IM3

**Genre:** Adventure, Mystery, Romance (in that order)

**Pairings:** TonyxBruce, NathashaxClint, PepperxHappy

**Disclaimer:** None of the Avengers belong to me but are already claimed by Marvel (what a shame). Bethanie Millstein is mine.

**Author's Note: **Hope you enjoy it.

* * *

**One – The Insignificance of Life**

It is a slow Sunday evening for once; the sun lazily dives towards the horizon, setting the city's skyscrapers alight in its blaze. The amber hues quickly become a photographer's dream and countless followers of said profession make sure to capture the beauty of the moment. Countless clicks snap and the moment, from countless angles, is saved on rapidly cooling and drying paper or the safer version of countless bits of data, hidden from the human eye.

One individual however seems to follow the sun's descend with little anticipation, brown eyes lingering on one spot for too long to actually relay interest. The man in question only raises a glass to lips to swallow a single drop of the amber liquid, finding pleasure in its taste and the burning sensation that crawls down his throat. His appearance is perfectly measured and calculated, down to the curve of his fingernails; the suit fits his lean body like a second skin, its colors compliment his own. The trademark goatee is freshly trimmed, his hair in the complicated dishevel that conveys both his chaotic genius as well as the traditional playboy mark he can't let go of.

"Why so serious?"

Tony Stark turns around; his mind ascends from the dark maze it was in to jump into the present. Just like that, his melancholy - which of course is not _that_; it's just some engineering problem that took a little to solve, thank you very much - is blown away and a slow smirk stretches on his lips.

"Hey Mean Green. Tell me, where is the maniac grin or the trademark paint? You can't tell me you're trying to deliver a phrase like that without the proper requirements."

The look he levels on the physicist is tinted in amusement and elicits the calm roll of Bruce's eyes, just as planned.

"I'm sorry I can't be of proper service today, but try the Other One next time we're in a lethal fight. I'm sure he'll comply."

"Ooh, sass. Any experiment that coughed up not as you wanted?" One last swing and the rest of the Scotch disappears in Tony's throat before he walks over to set the glass on the bar counter.

Instead of answering, his friend only pinches the bridge of his nose shortly, before leveling a calm expression. However, the engineer is skilled enough by now to see the hidden discomfort in the dark eyes.

"It's S.H.I.E.L.D., again. Apparently there is some unknown radiation source they are having some trouble with and asked me to come over and check it out. It's not Avengers related, they only require my expertise on the field."

"And you aren't thrilled to hop onto the flying castle again?"

"I grew fond of Candyland."

They share a smile, twisted in appearance, but genuine underneath.

"So you merely came up to say Goodbye? Aw, Bruce, I'm touched. Didn't think you'd admit it already." The words mark his approach towards the physicist, and he carelessly drapes his arm over his friend's shoulders. Bruce merely shrugs slightly, adjusting its position, but makes no other move to dislodge the limb.

"I do have proper manners, unlike other certain individuals currently present in this room." he replies mockingly.

"JARVIS, are there any such contemptible man around? I'm sure I'd have known."

_Sir, I wisely refrain from answering that question._

"Huh, even my A.I. conspires against me. Well done, Dr. Banner, exemplar of an evil scientist. You break my heart with your treachery. "

The following banter gains speed and even more mockery, occasionally laced with quips from JARVIS. The two geniuses slowly move towards the elevator which promptly brings them to Tony's private lab, hidden within the infamous Stark Tower. Bruce doesn't understand why his friend would go there after his declaration, but he trusts him and simply decides to follow quietly. The lab itself is in its characteristic disarray, the numerous empty coffee pots - property of Tony - just as much at home as the orderly sorted papers - property of Bruce (because yes, he is old-fashioned that way, he just sometimes prefers them to the technologically advanced version of note paper; and yes, Tony _always_ rolls his eyes when he sees Bruce scribble with a pen).

The billionaire lets go of Bruce along the way and stops in front of a clustered workbench, effectively blocking sight of what lies behind him.

"Bruce, light of my life. There is something I've been practically itching to give to you. Had to do a few little tweak here and there, but as of today, I officially declare it ready to go."

He steps slightly to the side to give Bruce unhindered view of the table. The dark bundle looks inconspicuous at first so he steps closer. It is a dark material, not quite black but dark enough to barely make out a hint of…purple? As Bruce tries to study the pattern of the fabric, his brow furrows. Curiosity makes him stretch his hand and the moment he touches it, he _knows_.

It is the fabric that Reed Richards designed; volatile molecules that allow expansion beyond measure and temperature changes beyond any extreme. Well, perhaps not infinite in all regards but withstanding circumstances that would otherwise rip any other fabric known on earth. With wide eyes he manages a quick stare at his friend before unfolding the cloth. The simple pants appear fluid in their flexibility, soft and sturdy at the same time. Bruce can barely hold back a delighted gasp; the scientist within him is jamming out calculations and theories and formulas with barely suppressible amazement.

"You got the formula!"

Tony grins like a schoolgirl.

"Of course I did. And you better be eternally grateful, I had to put up with _Richards_-", his voice shudders, "-after all. I've had them lying around for a few days already, just been waiting for the right moment to propose and all. But seeing how you're going on a great adventure so soon, it seemed…fitting."

Bruce can spare the lift of his mouth to give Tony a smile but his mind already wanders downwards. There is a reason for getting this material after all. Almost necessity. The reminder dampens his mood as he once more studies the pants.

"I suppose it's tailored."

"Mhm, to both you and the Big One. Did a bunch of scans in the last few fights and based my calculations on that. As perfect as they could ever be in this state. Might wanna work on additional tweaks once they've been tried out."

"Can't help but wonder just how unstable they are."

"Nothing to worry about with the lock on them. The formula is great, a work of pure beauty and genius. Shame I didn't find it first."

Tony's ramblings have always helped him manage a smile in grim moods and it's proven once again as Bruce manages a small tilt of his lips. His mind moves from the wonder of the pants towards some minor info that his friend couldn't completely slip past him.

"You knew I was going to leave?"

Tony shrugs sheepishly. "Nothing slips past JARVIS. He told me you were packing stuff. Add the mysterious – undetectable, my ass - call and it was obvious."

Bruce can only shake his head. A tiny nervous voice in his head screams in outrage at the blatant disregard for privacy but a larger part of him blocks the emotion. In the past months he has gotten to know Tony Stark, has been granted the rare gift of meeting the Tony underneath the Mr. Stark. Tony's paranoia with needing to know what's going on is as strong as Bruce's ire with getting watched. It's one of the few things they agreed to never agree about. Only their mutual respect, and as far as Bruce is concerned, _affection_, balances out their base fears and allows the uneasy compromise.

Thus it is no wonder that Tony knows. The knowledge is protected, hidden behind layer and layer of fire and brick and metal, secure with JARVIS, who, in Bruce's book, is an extension of Tony's self.

He will miss them when he is with S.H.I.E.L.D. again.

"Alright, better get going now. You're getting picked up at Twenty-one hundred, wouldn't want to be late." Tony interrupts his thoughts.

Bruce doesn't even ask how he knows the time. Instead, he grabs the UMF pants, folds them neatly and turns towards the door. As he passes the engineer, his free hand reaches out and clasps Tony's shoulder in a firm grip. His dark brown eyes rise to meet their lighter counterparts and in a single gaze he tries to convey as much emotion as he can.

"Thank you."

Tony only nods, his own gaze reflecting the warmth that is given to him.

"Take care of yourself, Bruce. And send my regards to the Dread Pirate."

A last shared chuckle and Bruce leaves, shoulders dropping.

* * *

Worth to pursue this rabid plot rabbit? We shall see, we shall see...

~Leena


	2. Two - The Swirl of Chaos

**The Nature of the Beast and the Beast of Nature**

**Summary: **What happens when, after all that supernatural, alien craziness; the Avengers come across…God. The omnipotent being that created Earth and humanity, kinda. Good news: He exists. Bad news: He's gone. As they race against All That Is Evil to save the Earth, they realize that Fate is a cruel mistress and has a very twisted sense of humor. TonyxBruce, post-Avengers, completely disregards IM3

**Genre:** Adventure, Mystery, Romance (in that order)

**Pairings:** TonyxBruce, NathashaxClint, PepperxHappy

**Author's Note: **Cleaned the layout and stuff. Special thanks to **Agent Yaoi** and **Booklover2526** and everyone else who favorited/followed! As this is a fairly fresh idea I cannot promise regular updates. We'll have to see how it flows. I shall give it my best though.

* * *

**Two – The Swirl of Chaos**

Tony is bored.

Boredom is a plague that, by Tony's accounts, shouldn't even exist. It doesn't equal 'not having to do something', but instead it is his equivalent to having to endure things that hold little to no interest to him (mostly none at all). Yet even the almighty Tony Stark has to make certain sacrifices in life.

Accepting the fact that Pepper bullies him on a regular basis definitely belongs right into that category.

This is the reason that he finds himself in one of the many SI conference rooms, listening to the rapport of some random old geezer while trying to hold all the ideas running in his head together. His fingers itch to get dunked in machine oil or grease or better yet, return to the dynamics of his holograms. However, Pepper has been quite successful in forcing him to attend this meeting and for reasons unknown - and better left untouched - he complied. He has been reluctant to work, instead indulging Pepper, following her exasperated orders for once. At some point, he even found himself watching the worker crew fix the Loki-shaped dent in his penthouse, something he hadn't wanted to do for the past nine months. It had been a secure method of brightening his mood, no matter the circumstances. However, his emotions (which he regards mostly as unnecessary and preferably to avoid) made him an easy target for Pepper's complaints so he pulled his act together and ordered the repairs, even going as far as watching them work, from beginning to the end.

Anything to avoid returning to his lab.

It is not the first time that Dr. Banner has left. In the recent nine months the physicist has had quite a few matters to take care of, both for S.H.I.E.L.D. and for himself. The absence had ranged from a minimum of two days up to almost three weeks, and always he had returned, without needing a prompt to do so. Despite, or perhaps even because of that, their fondness for each other has grown with barely any notice. Tony is not used to missing people; besides the few he actually calls friends, namely Pepper, Rhodey and Happy. Yet somehow, the seemingly timid doctor wormed his way into that tightly knit circle.

Right now Tony misses the fellow scientist the most. He has an unusual number of ideas running circles in his head and it makes him itchy being unable to share it with his friend. Even fuddling with his Stark Phone, trying to mess with whatever he runs across gives no satisfaction. With a disappointed shrug, he puts it back into his pocket.

The monotone drone of the conference attendees inserts itself back into his ears and he gazes around. Of course a part of his mind has actually been following all that's been said – Hello, multi-tasking genius here? – so with slightly less annoyance he knows it's about to end soon. As predicted, barely eight minutes later they are ready to wrap it up, looking to him for confirmation. He merely gives a disgruntled nod, getting up and speeding out before any of them can make a move.

He knows that Pepper will not be pleased, but he's too far into his grumpy mood to care. He takes a beeline for his lab, pours himself a generous amount of scotch and settles in his favorite chair.

"Jarvis, give me some music here, man. I'm dying with boredom."

'_Any preferences, Mr. Stark?'_

"Surprise me."

'_As you wish, Sir.'_

Not a second later loud music blasts from the unseen speakers, half drowning the thoughts in his head. He leans back, ignores the twinge in his chest and stares into nothingness. However, neither the deafening sounds nor the burn of his drink elevate his state of mind and he curses colorfully; his mood takes another step on that downward spiral.

Jesus Christ, since when has his entertainment become dependent on Bruce Anger-Management-Issues Banner?

* * *

Three days pass in the same non-routine. Pepper takes advantage of his foul but compliant mood and bombards him with paperwork and meetings. Whenever she gives him space to breath he mostly stays in his lab, trying to put some finishing tweaks on his Mark VIII, upgrading JARVIS' security or meddling with smaller projects he doesn't consciously know about.

It is Thursday, 2 a.m., when JARVIS turns down the music's volume to be heard.

'_Sir, there is a call from Director Fury.'_

"Director One-Eye can suck my dick right now."

_He is overriding a number of protocols, it appears to be urgent._

The engineer curses Fury and S.H.I.E.L.D. beyond the moon and back again before throwing the screwdriver he has had in his hands away (with little more force than necessary, it wouldn't leave a dent anyway). The screen in front of him flashes and the image of said Director appears.

"I'm not in the mood for your games, so cut the crap Fury and tell me why I'm not disconnecting the call, as in _right now_."

"_We have a situation at hand. The Captain, the Widow and the Hawk are all being called in. So pull your ass together, Stark, and get here immediately."_

Tony can't help but blink for a second as the call disconnects. It only takes another second before he stumbles forward, voice full with concern as he rapidly fires: "Jarvis, call Dr. Banner."

'_As you wish, Sir.'_

The ringtones buzzes twice before an answer breaks the silent darkness of the now completely quiet lab.

_"Tony?"_

"Bruce! You alright? What the fuck is going on over there?"

_"Fury called you?"_

"You bet. Now tell me what's going on. Mr. Eye-patch made it sound like the shit hit the fan."

_"Uh, I don't think explaining on the phone is a good idea. You should see it for yourself."_

There is a strange undercurrent to his voice, a reluctance that is new to Tony, hesitation not yet heard from his fellow scientist. And there is something else, something completely foreign in Bruce's voice. But for the life of him, he can't fucking place it.

A frustrated sigh ghosts past his lips before Tony grabs a rag to half-heartedly clean his dirty hands.

"Fine, Brucey, play hard to get. I'll come over and bring some flowers."

_"Do-"_

Tony knows it is childish but he ends the call before Banner has a chance to reply. Some sort of anger and disappointment wells within him, irritating him beyond measure. He doesn't like not being in control of his emotions; the chaotic feelings only make him more short-tempered.

The billionaire hurriedly ascends the floors to his quarters to grab a quick shower and make himself presentable. No matter what happens, neither Fury nor Bruce made it sound _that_ much of an emergency that he can't get dressed with style. As he runs over the notions, he puzzles over his odd state of mind. Even JARVIS has been catching on to his strange mood, an indicator that it really is not just in his head. He is used to gaining inquiring looks from Pepper (the kind of glare that would have left him either slightly guilty or at least amendable enough to spill his guts, at least, well, _before_) but having his A.I. question him when the moment is deemed appropriate? Not cool in Tony's book.

It doesn't take long to get into the suit, the whole process having been made as time efficient as possible. Tony allows himself to relax a little bit as JARVIS goes online within the suit, refining the HUD, making it match Tony's needs. As he soars towards the sky, he finds a tiny center of calm; the joy and excitement that still runs through him whenever he is in the air.

"Jarvis, ETA?"

'_About 34 minutes and 45 seconds, Sir.'_

"Roger that, show me what S.H.I.E.L.D. has in their database so far."

Instead of answering, the A.I. starts listing diagrams and readings and whole tables of numbers on the HUD display. Tony studies them with a frown. Images and tiny walls of text complete the overall info – it is all that Tony requires. However, the thirty minutes of quiet reading time are not enough for him to get a grip on what is going on. What he knows though, makes him frown.

S.H.I.E.L.D. has been monitoring a series of small divergences with ever increasing fallout. Several places across the Northern American Continent have called in with strange readings of accident sites. Physical laws seem to have run wild on occasion, nature has been creating odd things and even on a molecular level there have been too many oddities. Tony would bet his entire collection of cars that those incidents are somehow related.

It would also make sense why they called in Banner, and only him, first. Yes, Tony is a genius himself (thank you _very much_ for remembering), but between the two of them, Bruce is the one with the greater expertise in the fields of biology, chemistry and of course anything radiation related. And he should have been able to make sense of what's been going on.

The fact that he hasn't allows a tiny sliver of profound worry to nestle in Tony's mind.

When the helicarrier comes into view (thank god it wasn't invisible), the engineer can't help but preen a little when he notices the small changes. While they may not be too visible to the untrained eye, he can see all of them; it reminds him to gloat a little when he sees Fury, after all, the improvements were his designs.

After his landing he is greeted by two unfamiliar agents. He regards them casually as he waits for his suit to fold down into the inconspicuous looking suitcase. When his gaze levels on the agents again, one of them takes one step towards him.

"Mr. Stark, we have been waiting for you. This is Agent Margin, I'm Agent Hollister. If you would please give Agent Margin here the suitcase, he will deposit it in your quarters. I will guide you to Director Fury."

Of course the man doesn't bat an eyelash at the billionaire and Tony can barely suppress an eye-roll. He hates Agents and their agencies, always has, always will.

"If that gets lost, I know where to look for." He quips half-jokingly, half serious, as he hands over the suitcase. For a moment he sees a flash of worry in the man's eyes and it's enough to please him. As the man hurriedly departs, Tony levels his gaze back on Agent One. The quirk of his eyebrow seems enough of an indication that he is ready to go, so the Agent turns and gestures forward. The only people they come across in the hallways are other Agents that hurriedly scurry without paying attention to them. It amplifies the tension in the air and Tony can't help but feel affected by it. When they reach the command center which doubles as their conference room, Tony is surprised to find a familiar face.

"Hello Merida, not high up in the mountains?"

* * *

Hope you enjoyed, tell me what you think. Reviews are always welcome.

~Leena


	3. Thee - A First Glance

**The Nature of the Beast and the Beast of Nature**

**Summary: **What happens when, after all that supernatural, alien craziness; the Avengers come across…God. The omnipotent being that created Earth and humanity, kinda. Good news: He exists. Bad news: He's gone. As they race against All That Is Evil to save the Earth, they realize that Fate is a cruel mistress and has a very twisted sense of humor. TonyxBruce, post-Avengers, completely disregards IM3

**Genre:** Adventure, Mystery, Romance (in that order)

**Pairings:** TonyxBruce, NathashaxClint, PepperxHappy

**Author's Note: **Getting background info is a pain in the ass. And scientific talk is gonna break my back at some point. Enjoy though :)**  
**

* * *

**Three – A First Glance**

"_Hello Merida, not high up in the mountains?"_

"Missed you too much, couldn't stop shaking." Barton replies with a dry smile from where he is leaning on the wall. He remains relaxed even as Tony approaches to shake hands.

Ever since the Chitauri incident, they have actually come across each other a few times. Some months after they all parted ways, Barton had come to Stark Tower, asking for a place to crash. Good thing Bruce had been gone at that time, so Tony felt no reluctance in admitting the Archer. He had stayed only a few nights, they watched movies together and drank themselves silly. As soon as Barton stepped foot out of the tower, Tony hacked into S.H.I.E.L.D. servers (which was easy; as he had already done it already, the path was paved for more) and done some 'research'.

Apparently Barton's new handler couldn't deal with him properly. Searching for more, Tony came across reports that bore interesting news on the issue. Coulson actually had been the Archer's handler since he had joined S.H.I.E.L.D., in fact, he had been the one to pull the former assassin in. Reports from third persons indicated that over the years, those two had become some sort of dysfunctional family, eventually joined by the Widow.

All of sudden, Tony understood the impact that Coulson's death had had on both of them. So when Barton came over the next time, he didn't even ask and just let him in. His emotions did weird stuff which he mostly ignored, but he couldn't help but notice how Barton started relaxing – slightly – and didn't jump at the slightest twitch. And then he found himself, tweaking the Archer's bow or creating new arrows to creatively undo an enemy.

Of course, he convinced himself that all he did, he did for the team. After all, it only served himself when a team member could fight better, right?

That's why it pleases Tony now, feeling the relaxed grip of Barton's hand. Their easy camaraderie apparently extends even beyond the boundaries of his tower.

"Agent Hollister. Go and fetch Dr. Banner."

Director Fury turns around with his barked order. His face is as grim as always, the frowning lines deeply etched into his skin. The eye-patch sits as tight as ever but the one eye that is left glares at Stark with an unparalleled intensity. His hands steadily hold two thin envelopes but as soon as he knows he has the engineer's attention, he places the folders on the table and pushes them towards Tony and Barton's general direction. The Archer unfolds his arms and moves towards the table.

"This is all the data we've got so far, get yourself acquainted with it. Agent Romanoff and Mr. Rogers are on the way and should get here in about six hours." Fury pauses and Tony uses the opportunity.

"Is that the moment where I compliment you on the changes you've done to the helicarrier? The things I've seen, well, they are truly superb, I should congratulate the genius who made those improvements. Wait, isn't that me?"

Tony grins smugly and watches the Director closely, clearly expecting some answer. Next to him, Barton only snorts quickly before returning his attention to the contents of his folder.

"Why yes, Mr. Stark, as you so very well know, we sustained some damage last year which had to be fixed. Now, if you would stop looking for ego boosts, read that goddam file and start being the self-claimed genius." Fury's voice drips with sarcasm, making Tony smirk with satisfaction.

"Actually there are so many more that would back that up. You know, it's a proven _fact_ that I'm a genius. Like, Barton, dude, you'd agree that I'm a genius, right?" Tony swivels in his chair and points towards the Archer with an outstretched arm.

Barton however only grazes him with a titled look, and after one quick glance towards Fury admits: "Well, the arrows you recently made are pretty damn good as far as I'm concerned-"

"See. Your very personal Robin of Locksley agrees. I _am_ a genius."

Fury can barely suppress an eye-roll when Agent Hollister reappears, Dr. Banner right in tow. The Agent gives a short nod to his Director and vanishes again, leaving the physicist standing alone, wringing hands in his habitual gesture. His gaze unerringly falls onto Tony and he shifts unconsciously. Some tension leaves his body, a few worry lines in his face smooth out and even his shoulders drop slightly as if some invisible pressure is lifted. Without hesitation he angles his body towards the engineer and starts moving.

"Dr. Banner, give Mr. Stark a basic overview."

Bruce lifts a quick glance to the Director before letting it settle on Tony. He gestures towards the folder, lying on the table.

"I've mostly worked on figuring out a pattern in the radiation readings we've gathered in and around Muskegon, Michigan. About four weeks ago, a group of European science students who were visiting the area for their own studies, came across unusual amounts of gamma radiation. After reporting their findings, resident physicists and staff from the Michigan State University explored further. Apparently, the entire area has seen an increase in all kinds of radiation. In the course of the last months, the radiation levels kept fluctuating but in the past week, they started climbing at an alarming rate."

"Do we know the cause of it?" Barton interrupts, a light frown the only indication of his seriousness.

"Not yet." Banner shakes his head. "What's more alarming is that it is not only radiation levels that are showing strange behaviors. Factories in the area have reported claims of increased fluctuation in temperature and density of certain materials. A coal-fired power plant in the area had to be taken off the grid when its energy output started running wild. It was shut down by now, and people are starting to ask questions. Basically it's-"

"-someone, or something, who is messing with the laws of physics. Stop pussyfooting around." Tony cuts straight to the point. "So what, we got someone – I'm betting it's a mutant - around who felt it like a good idea to test his power on his surroundings. Great, cause, you know, he doesn't seem very smart. Most likely a local, probably a kid who doesn't even understand the range of what he's causing. We find the kid, and everything goes back to normal after a while. Problem solved. Why call us all in the first place?"

"Because, Mr. Stark, if you would be patient for once, you could have known that Muskegon is not the only place this is happening."

"Wait, what?"

"I haven't confirmed it yet but after seeing the pattern in Muskegon, I started looking for places with similar troubles, perhaps even in earlier stages of it." Banner fills in with a light shrug of his shoulder.

Tony only groans and rubs his temples. At first he assumed it was some big-ass emergency; then, after reading all the intel he could get his hands on during his flight he assumed it was a false alarm. Now it seems as if it would not be his lucky day after all.

"Great, so what now?"

"You and Dr. Banner will check all the records we received that Dr. Banner considered worth looking at. I want you to find all the places that have this problem and I want you to make sure that it's real. Agent Barton will either stay with you or prepare for take-off, because as soon as Agent Romanoff and Captain Rogers get here, I want you to debrief them quickly and then get out there. We don't have the time to let this get any worse. If it does, we're gonna have a giant pile of _shit_ on our hands. You are _dismissed_." Fury enunciates every syllable of the last word, before pointedly watching them trickle away, his one eye narrowed but fixed on Tony's back.

* * *

Clint does opt to join them in the lab, if only to avoid spending time in the presence of other Agents. Neither scientist asks for his reasons; he feels inclined to be partially thankful to them. They work diligently, if not quietly. It only takes a few moments for Stark and Banner to ease into their work routine, practiced and refined over the last months. Technical details are braided neatly into light banter, laced with even more scientific language. The Archer feels a bit overwhelmed at times, but his face stays calm and unfazed.

His focus lingers more on their interaction than the actual content of their conversations.

Even though it is Natasha who perfected the art of reading people, Clint himself claims to have some deducting skills when it comes to watch people; what they say and do, and even more so what they don't do; what they keep quiet about. It is not the first time he is watching them; after all, he has been to the Stark Tower a few times when Banner was present. However, those glimpses were fleeting and short. He saw their closeness but wrote it off as two genius-level scientist having found a playing partner for once.

With a shake of his head, Clint brushes off his thoughts. It would be easier to just watch them and not fill his head with pointless ideas, if anything of interest would happen between those two, surely Natasha would fill him in. This doesn't mean that he won't keep watching them. A man needs his entertainment.

The hours pass by and the scientists' voices become more subdued. It appears as if their theories are right; they find two more cities that bear the unmistakable signs of someone meddling with nature's laws. There remain a handful of places that have to be kept under close surveillance, but recorded data seems less threatening there.

"All of those places are in the northern part of the U.S. and fairly close to the Great Lakes; not a coincidence if you ask me. We'll have to figure out if there's an actual pattern, but I think we should check out those cities first, see if we can find more clues."

It doesn't take long until an Agent enters their lab and informs them of the Widow's and Captain America's arrival. While Bruce cleans up their research and Tony decides to run one last check-up with JARVIS, Fury slowly makes his entrance, but makes no further comment. When their last two team members show up, the Director nods at Rogers, before folding his arms and settling to watch and listen.

"Dr. Banner, Stark, Barton." Steve nods once at each of them, and then settles his gaze on Banner. "We weren't told much, clue us in please."

And so he does. It takes about ten minutes to give them the general idea, and another five to go over probable strategies how to deal with it. Steve catches on quickly and, to his credit, doesn't rise to the many quips that Stark decides to throw in at random times – mostly aimed at the Captain, of course. When it becomes clear that there are three destinations, he feels the absence of Thor keenly. Reduced to five members their team is left in a fragile balance. Of course, their first real mission since the Chitauri incident requires them to split up into three teams.

Steve sighs. Just his rotten luck.

"Alright, let's do it like this. Dr. Banner, you take Hawkeye. You take a Quinjet to Muskegon. Stark, you are alone. You will take care of Appleton. Romanoff, you're with me and we'll be going to Galesburg. Each team should contact whatever authorities or S.H.I.E.L.D. contacts we've got there. Once we're in, we will gather as much data as possible, try to get a grip on what's actually going on."

"I will send you a list of Agents that are already in the respective areas. They will be your liaison with headquarters so make sure to use them." Fury chimes in, voice as gruff as ever. It is their cue to get ready and suit up.

As the two Quinjets take into the air, a red and golden light catches their pilots' attention. They all roll their eyes as they watch Iron Man complete a few loops before speeding off into the skies, the blasting drums of an AC/DC song left in their intercoms.

* * *

Sorry for the wait, getting some background info took a little time. Hope you enjoyed though!

Tell me what you think.

~Leena


	4. Four - The Plot Thickens

**The Nature of the Beast and the Beast of Nature**

**Summary: **What happens when, after all that supernatural, alien craziness; the Avengers come across…God. The omnipotent being that created Earth and humanity, kinda. Good news: He exists. Bad news: He's gone. As they race against All That Is Evil to save the Earth, they realize that Fate is a cruel mistress and has a very twisted sense of humor. TonyxBruce, post-Avengers, completely disregards IM3

**Genre:** Adventure, Mystery, Romance (in that order)

**Pairings:** TonyxBruce, NathashaxClint, PepperxHappy

**Disclaimer:** None of the Avengers belong to me but are already claimed by Marvel (what a shame). Bethanie Millstein is mine.

**Author's Note:** Special thanks as always go to my lovely reviewers, **Agent Yaoi** and **Kama-Chann**. Your kind words made me (and the rabid plot rabbit) giddy with excitement. Sorry for the wait, but the holidays were spent with my boyfriend and/or family.

* * *

**Four – The Plot Thickens**

In the distance the outskirts of Appleton come into view. The HUD inside the suit immediately displays points of interest; namely the large Campus area of Lawrence University as well as the Performing Arts Center. But other than that, there is nothing spectacular about this town. It makes Tony frown for a moment. Why do evil plots always manifest in either the most popular places (like, New York or something) or the most mundane (Appleton, kinda)? There must be a conspiracy somewhere, he thinks to himself before dismissing the thought entirely.

As he sweeps down towards the city's downtown, he makes JARVIS connect back with S.H.I.E.L.D. to secure the number of the agency's contact in the area. His A.I. merely receives a phone number and the inconspicuous name of 'Mrs. Purple'. Even though only his A.I. can actually hear him, the engineer can't help but blurt several quips in regards to the colorful name (duh), laced with humorous chuckles.

If he could, JARVIS would probably sigh in response.

Instead he diverts Tony's attention to the readings of their surroundings, which the suit's scanners are picking up at the very moment. But before he can make sense of what he's being shown an unfamiliar face and the name of Rosary Purple appear on his screen, indicating a connected call with said person.

"_Mr. Stark?"_

"That would be me, sweetheart. Look, not to be rude or anything, but, could you like, just tell me where to land? I really don't want to get my intel while I'm hogging the roof of some random downtown-", he leans forward to catch whatever sign is posted on front of the house he is standing on, "-hair dresser." Tony grimaces.

"_Of course, Mr. Stark. Why don't you redirect and meet me at Crystal Print?"_

"Is that S.H.I.E.L.D.'s or yours?"

"_S.H.I.E.L.D.'s."_

"Right, I'm on the way." With a low whistle, he disconnects the call and starts the repulsors.

Just as he is airborne, an alert flashes on his HUD.

It is a flaring red, the signal and sudden tint of the display all the indicator he needs to know what is wrong. Subconsciously, in a movement trained and pulled through hundreds of times, he dives to the side, barely avoiding the missile that passes by him within an inch. Instead, it hits the low wall bordering the roof of the house.

The HUD display shuts down to avoid blinding him just as the shockwave of the explosion reaches him. He loses his balance, gets thrown through the air like the unloved ragdoll of a child. Even through the metal of his suit he can feel the heat of the fire, doubled even by the spike of adrenaline in his blood. He is too surprised, almost shocked, to react before he lands in the wall of a nearby building with a loud crash.

Concrete and dust scrape the armor's paint and with a low whine, the display flares to life again. Slowly he finds his center again just as gravity sets in to pull him down.

"Jarvis."

'_Yes, Sir.'_

His voice is low but unwavering. To anyone who doesn't know him it would be surprising in its calmness. Those close to him would know not to mistake it for that, but to hear the anger starting to boil underneath. Because yes, he is starting to get pissed. The paint was fresh after all.

It takes but a few seconds and the suit's weapon systems come online, the thrusters hum to life and he jumps into the air. About forty yards higher he stops midair, scanning his surroundings.

There is nothing.

No visible threat, no mad lunatics holding more weapons, no vehicles that could fire more missiles. Apart from the chaos the first missile has sown, absolutely nothing could indicate what kind of threat he is dealing with. Intently, he dives down a few feet again, and retraces the flight path of the first missile. Again, the sudden flashing alert, triggered by his superb sensors, gives him a fair warning ahead. This time he doesn't avoid it, instead lifting his left hand and firing a repulsor beam. The missile gets intercepted and explodes, rather harmlessly, in the air. JARVIS is experienced enough to balance out the shockwave, so that Tony doesn't feel any of it, protected in his suit.

Quick as lightning, Tony moves towards what he calculates as the flight path's origin. It looks like some random alley, dark and perfect for hiding stupid missiles. Weapon systems activating, repulsors chiming to indicate their readiness, he descends into the narrow path.

He has been praying to find someone whom he could blame (there still was the fresh paint issue after all). What he finds instead makes him wish the alley had been empty.

Dozens of missile racks, large piles of guns, several weapons which the untrained eye would call bazookas; most of them carry the infamous Stark Industries logo. He, more than any other person, understands what destructible power has been hoarded together. He knows the destruction these weapons and missiles can bring.

And they are all trained on him.

"Oh fuck."

* * *

Bruce watches his surroundings pass by with a frown, clearly unhappy with the situation but burying it under the iron restraint. Clint has parked their Quinjet smoothly and steadily on the hangar of S.H.I.E.L.D.'s facility at the airport where they met their contact. So far, Mr. Bergsten has proven to be quite useful, providing them with a car and the newest updates. Right now though, he is trying Bruce's patience.

"So, I just personally wanted to tell you just how awesome you are. I think pretty much everyone was watching the news back then. I mean, I always knew SHIELD had it all under control, but it was still amazing to watch the news and see you out there fighting and knowing you were protecting us against those aliens and you were in danger all the time and then the Loki stunt, no idea how you managed to pull any good out of that but that you did it just made it all the more awesome. I think I should-"

"-be quiet?" Bruce hisses, at the end of his patience. So far the ride has been only ten minutes but this agent has actually managed to fill every second of them with his babble.

Of course, Tony can be the same if he put his obnoxious mind to it, but at least with him, the things he constantly spews out are insightful, fairly intelligent or at least genuinely entertaining. This young agent however – he can barely be past twenty-five – can claim neither of those qualities for his ramblings. Add the fact that Bruce has been dealing with their overall problem for a longer time than his teammates – making him incomparably more concerned by it – and his famed patience is definitely running out.

"Look, you should just tone down the excitement a little. Yes we know we are awesome, but there's no need to kill the Doctor's ears."

Clint's voice is calm, underlying amusement evident in his tone. For a moment Bruce feels irritated by the words but the Archer apparently notices his discomfort and throws him a quick wink. The physicist turns his gaze back out of the car's window, satisfied with Clint's intervention, and resumes his study of the city they drive through.

It takes another ten minutes before they reach their destination, a nondescript house on the northern shore of the small Muskegon harbor bay. Bergsten ushers them out of the car before he drives the vehicle into the garage. Aimlessly they wait in the driveway, both of them tense and both of their eyes kept on their surroundings.

Something is wrong, and they can feel it.

The agent either doesn't notice their discomfort or chooses to ignore it. Instead, he beckons them to the house and after fumbling for the keys, opens the door. The interior of the house is just as nondescript as the outside; simple furniture, pastel colors on the walls, no expensive electronics. Bergsten leads them through the kitchen to a simple wooden door. Behind the door, he reveals a narrow staircase, going down into the basement. Once they descend into its darkness, Bergsten turns on the light and Bruce can't help but be impressed for a second.

The entire basement is filled with screens, desks that quell with papers, and shelves that hold identical looking folders. Dozens of machines seem buzzy with work and half of them chirps out loud beeps and spew forth more paper. The walls are agency grey and most likely soundproof; there is only one more metal door, but it is closed and gives nothing away as to what lies behind it.

"This is everything we've acquired so far, of course there might be more by now, the scientists that are working are supposed to give me hourly reports. Depending on your course of action, you can study and supervise everything from here or join me when I see them in the city."

"Where do you always meet?" Clint asks with purpose.

"Um, the same place. It's a neat Mexican restaurant in downtown. I get a free soda by now every time I go there."

"So you never changed location? The owners don't get suspicious?"

"Umm, I don't think so. I told them it was scientific work and it's government-issued and that we don't get disturbed when we're there…" The Agent trails off uncertainly.

"What's wrong?" Bruce asks after pulling the Archer slightly away from the overeager agent. Clint's frown deepens considerably.

"Sounds awfully fishy to me. Regular protocol ensures that meetings with informants, even if it's scientists, shouldn't be held in public and preferably not in the same place twice. Now this kid comes along spouting off nonsense, messing with shit like that? I've been around long enough to know when something's wrong."

"You think he's…some sort of imposter?"

"He's definitely not who he pretends to be."

"So what's the plan?"

"We'll just go along."

"Just like that?"

"Just like that."

Bruce snorts and Clint quirks the corner of his mouth. They turn back to the agent.

"So, you said you were supposed to meet them soon?"

"In the city, yes. You want to join me?"

"It would be a good idea to get a general grasp of what we're dealing with. I think we should let the doctor have a few minutes to look over everything you've got here while you and I talk logistics."

There is no hesitation, only eagerness as Bergsten shows the physicist where to find everything. Before long, he is dragging the Archer back upstairs. While Clint studies their surroundings – this time in detail – the agent prepares some coffee. He settles in the study, obviously trying to catch some rest to slurp the dark beverage. It is only as Clint is watching him that he notices it. His left hand twitches every once in a while and occasionally his eyes snap towards his watch. He seems a bundle of nerves and slowly, the nervousness is showing. The babbling seems to really have been a sign of his stumbling nerves, a fact that makes Clint tense up even more.

Twenty minutes later he hears Banner come up the cellar stairs, just as his earpiece cackles with sudden activity. While Clint doesn't flinch, he catches the physicist touching his ear.

"_Uhm, guys?"_ It's Stark. _"I may have a little trouble here."_

Clint watches as Banner's eyes widen in concern and worry, a flash or brightness hidden quickly. Over the static they hear the sound of an explosion, Stark groaning once, followed by a curse. Banner clenches his fists.

"_What's wrong?"_ That's the Captain, all business in his no-nonsense voice.

"_Couldn't even meet up with the SHIELD contact, met hostile forces. And as much as it pains me to admit it, but I'm under heavy fire and unable to reciprocate. I'm tired of evading anti-tank missiles."_

"_Iron Man, don't mess around. If you're under attack, just deal with the attackers."_

For a moment, there is ominous silence.

"_That's the problem Cap. There is nobody."_

'Aw, shit.' Clint thinks.

* * *

Hope you enjoyed. Things are starting to speed up a little.

~Leena


	5. Five - Going Downhill

**The Nature of the Beast and the Beast of Nature**

**Summary: **What happens when, after all that supernatural, alien craziness; the Avengers come across…God. The omnipotent being that created Earth and humanity, kinda. Good news: He exists. Bad news: He's gone. As they race against All That Is Evil to save the Earth, they realize that Fate is a cruel mistress and has a very twisted sense of humor. TonyxBruce, post-Avengers, completely disregards IM3

**Genre:** Adventure, Mystery, Romance (in that order)

**Pairings:** TonyxBruce, NathashaxClint, PepperxHappy

**Disclaimer:** None of the Avengers belong to me but are already claimed by Marvel (what a shame). Bethanie Millstein is mine.

**Author's Note:** Sorry for the wait, but my muse decided to grace me only a few times. As always, special thanks to **ponyperson** and **Kama-Chann**! Your kindness always makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside :P Either way, I hope you all enjoy this!

* * *

**Five – Going downhill**

Natasha frowns.

There is no denying the voice in her head that is telling her to turn around and get back to the Quinjet that rests safely a few miles away, hidden behind the slope of a hill. Something is wrong but for the life of her she just can't put her finger on it.

Rogers is walking next to her, shoulders tense, but his face relaxed. To an outsider, he might seem unconcerned but she is no mere outsider, she is the Black Widow and a Widow notices the way his eyes sometimes flutter quickly or his hand twitches as if to form a fist or, maybe even, grab the shield on his back. If he was Barton she would slightly brush his shoulder and throw him a warm glance, to assure him that they are together, so all is fine.

But he is Steve Rogers, more than a colleague but also not a friend (_yet_, a voice supplies in her head), so she does neither.

Their S.H.I.E.L.D. contact, Agent Gnair, stops at the next corner and unloads her equipment.

"This is the next one. This place has seen the second highest increase in _all_ readings."

The woman bends down to grab a device and gets to work. She seems competent enough and so far she has been some help; that much Natasha can admit. However, she can't shake the feeling of wrongness. Her green eyes narrow and sweep over their surroundings. They are in Lincoln Park, just at the northern edge of Galesburg. In the distance, she can see the Veteran Memorial, but it is mostly obscured by trees.

Trees, that lost a lot of color. Color that even the grass is lacking. Only few birds can be heard tweeting in in the treetops. Nature is already starting to pay the price for the change that someone is causing, and the Widow has a bad feeling about what might happen if it gets any worse.

Next to her, Rogers curses softly. Of course she has been listening to the conversation between Captain and agent and if she were anyone else she would most likely copy his sentiment. Now though, she remains silent, and steps closer.

"Whatever is causing this, the increase has doubled in the past 24 hours. I think we even have to start evacuating civilians, this will enter dangerous levels within a few days." The agent says with worry in her voice.

"So you're saying that since yesterday, things changed. Either whoever is responsible knows we're on their trail, or this was planned and we are merely picking it up now."

"All the readings we gathered in the past were sent back to Headquarters. If you check them, you will see how peculiar and unpredictable this was-"

Their intercoms buzz to life.

"_Uhm, guys? I may have a little trouble here."_

Natasha and Rogers exchange a glance. That is Stark and his wording doesn't seem to be meant in humor. The sounds of explosions reach their ears and both tense, hands flying to their weapons. Rogers demeanor changes, and his posture straightens.

"What's wrong?" With approval, Natasha notes the calm authority in his voice.

"_Couldn't even meet up with the SHIELD contact, met hostile forces. And as much as it pains me to admit it, but I'm under heavy fire and unable to reciprocate. I'm tired of evading anti-tank missiles."_

Rogers glances at her but she keeps her face blank.

"Iron Man, don't mess around. If you're under attack, just deal with the attackers."

There is a quick, uncommon silence from Stark.

"_That's the problem Cap. There is nobody."_

'боже мой.' Natasha thinks.

"What do you mean, there is nobody?"

"_Exactly as I said it, Cap. Whoever is controlling those missiles is either invisible or using telekinesis. Neither option appeals to me."_

"Then pull out and retreat."

"_What do you think I've been trying to do? Every time I try to get out there's a crapton of missiles that intercept my flight path or blow up right in front of me. It's pissing me-"_

Another explosion shudders in their earpiece; then there is static silence.

"Iron Man?" Steve is definitely worried now; it's hidden in the tremble of his voice. "Iron Man, do you copy?"

But there is only silence. The curse Rogers spews forth surprises Natasha with its venom. Before she can form a sentence however, their intercom buzzes again.

"_Fuck, Captain__, we have-"_ This time it's Clint, but his voice gets cut off by gunfire. Even through their earpieces they hear the sound of his bow, followed quickly but the Hulk's trademark roar. The connection wavers and it takes a good minute before Clint seems to remember them.

"_Captain, don't trust those SHIELD contacts. We just got attacked by ours, and not just him. I repeat, don't trust those contacts!"_

Time seems to slow down as Natasha's and Rogers' eyes fly towards Mrs. Gnair, who has already drawn her gun and points it at them. As she pulls the trigger, Natasha instinctively ducks just as the Captain's large frame appears before her. The metallic clang of the bullets hitting his shield pierces the air several times. Some bullets whistle past them entirely. It's enough time for the Widow to draw her own weapon, unlock it, dive to the side and fire her own shots.

Unlike the imposter, the Black Widow doesn't miss.

The woman's body shudders under the bullet's impact before crumbling down and hitting the ground with a 'thud'. Instantly, Natasha is on her feet again, back to back with the Captain.

"We need to move." She hisses quietly. He doesn't reply but she can practically feel his nod.

They move in sync, a routine they started practicing over the few missions that S.H.I.E.L.D. sent them on. She never admits it, but Rogers is quite a useful partner to her. To the Widow, who always seeks perfection and thus prefers working alone, acknowledging a good partner is a rare, almost unprecedented occurrence (of course there is Clint, but in her book, he has been an exception to pretty much every rule that ever existed). Now knowing that her partner is just as capable at this as she is, allows her to put all her concentration on making sure they stay alive.

Pounding footsteps and the rustle of leaves alert them to newcomers. Natasha cocks her gun and as the strangers come into view, baring weapons that are pointed in their general direction she doesn't hesitate to open fire. Rogers turns in a motion as if to embrace her but keeps his shield between her and the enemies, eyes intent. More hostiles appear and some emotion coils in her gut as she realizes that most of them are civilians bearing their own weapons. She quickly switches from killing the targets to just disabling them, even though it makes her job so much harder. The Captain issues a soft curse.

He must have noticed it too.

In a spare moment, she turns her head and throws him a glance. He understands her almost immediately (_god_, he is really turning into a second Barton) and detaches himself from her.

Using his shield as cover, he breaks into a light sprint but to his immediate surprise, their opponents don't retreat - in fact, they don't bat an eye at his advance. Icy dread fills his veins and it takes some will power to push it away. Now is not the time to wonder over what exactly they are dealing with. They need to get to the Quinjet as soon as possible.

Agile and without fail he breaks his sprint to throw out his shield. It flies ahead, hits just as he intends it, bounces around and knocks people down before sailing straight back into his outstretched hand. It gives them a moment of reprieve, the opening they need to get away.

They make use of it quickly, covering distance as quickly as possible, using the trees as cover. A little to the left, they can hear the cars on the 150 but they keep the trees between them and the road. More shots are fired and the duck reflexively.

As they reach the Quinjet, Natasha jumps instantly into the pilot's seat, starting the engines. For few precious seconds, Rogers stays outside, and tries to keep their attackers at bay.

"Captain, get in, _now_." She yells over her shoulder as she starts pushing the Quinjet off.

They are off within seconds. The hatch closes quickly and exhaling a harsh puff of air, the Captain plops down on the seat next to her.

"Well, that was something." He says and she can't help but snort lightly.

Instead of replying she works on some switches and throws him a pointed glance. Before she can say something, their coms buzz again.

"_Captain, you copy?"_

It's Clint.

"Hawkeye. How's your situation?"

"_Well, you know our green buddy, he did some trashing, some smashing, destroyed the northern shore but, genius that I am I convinced him that we needed to get back. Banner's back for now, but I don't think he can stand another fight. Our Quinjet is deep in enemy territory; think you can pick us up?"_

"Sure thing, just give us coordinates."

Natasha quickly adjusts their flight path after the cords come in, before deactivating the com.

"Think we should check on Stark?" She asks quietly.

His face turns into a grimace. "We have no idea what's going on there and if it really took out Stark, we need to get back and make a plan first, anyway."

She studies him for a while, notices how he grips the handles of his seat or stares into the distance, before saying softly, "It's not your fault. Sending him alone was the only logical solution."

He flinches as if struck by a physical blow. His face hardens; she can almost hear the crunch of his jaw. There is no response but she can see how he questions himself even more, guilt evident in his entire posture.

She softly lays a hand on his shoulder.

"It is not your fault, Captain."

The remaining flight passes on in silence and as they land near the shore of Lake Michigan, a long way north of Muskegon, the tension between them has vanished.

Clint is hovering around Dr. Banner, some protectiveness in his behavior that is so very unlike him that Natasha frowns before dismissing the thought. As the two get into the Quinjet and the hatch closes again, her eyes flutter over Clint's body in the way her hands would never do, taking in every single injury or scratch or whatever is out of place. But other than his odd behavior and the missing arrows (only about 6 shafts are left, and seeing how he tries to pick up some of them after fights, it means he had to shoot _a lot_) there is nothing wrong with him.

Her sigh is soft and she could swear it is inaudible but his head snaps around and his eyes find hers. In that simple gaze, they convey all they need: their state of mind, of body, their feelings.

Their _love__._

(Of course, love is for children – Clint can be such a child sometimes.)

They deposit Banner on the small cot and he accepts the blanket gratefully before dozing off, allowing himself the much needed nap. Clint claims the seat that the Captain had claimed earlier but Rogers only rolls his eyes before settling behind them, leaning against the wall.

"So, what happened at your place?" Clint asks as he munches on the cereal bar he snagged in the back.

"Your warning came just in time even though I think there was something odd-"

"She reacted just as you warned us. That is no coincidence." Natasha cuts in.

"Right, so what? We have a group of imposters who are, somehow, mentally linked or something? I mean, maybe I missed something, but I didn't catch any sort of earpieces they could have used to communicate."

"I think it's worse how they managed to either hack into S.H.I.E.L.D. and secure that position or they passed all tests and protocols that are in place to avoid allowing in any traitors. I mean how long has this been going on? Months? They must have been planted back then."

"What's more important right now is how to get Stark. Every minute we don't hear anything from him worries me more. It's unlike him."

"Actually, I wouldn't worry too much, Captain. Stark can take care of himself just fine."

"It's probably just his intercom that got damaged. We should get back and try to connect with JARVIS, he'll know what to do." Barton adds.

"Don't we need to get back to Stark Tower then?"

As Clint tries to hide his guilty expression, two pairs of eyebrows rise in sync.

"Barton, spit it out." That's the kind of tone in her voice that should never be disobeyed so Clint only shrugs once.

"Ever since the Chitauri incident, he's had a pretty much permanent connection to the SHIELD servers. He's hidden deep inside, but he's still there, it should be easy to draw him out. I'm pretty sure he's meant to react to Dr. Banner in case of emergencies."

All of their gazes turn to the back of the Quinjet where Banner is napping uneasily. And despite their own assurances they can't help but worry over Stark, who, even though he is an arrogant, selfish and very irresponsible prick at times, is part of their team.

And they'll make damn sure that he will be fine.

* * *

So Tony is out of the picture for now, and they will realize very soon that it's not the only thing to worry about. Stay tuned!

~Leena


	6. Six - Headless Acceleration

**The Nature of the Beast and the Beast of Nature**

**Summary: **What happens when, after all that supernatural, alien craziness; the Avengers come across…God. The omnipotent being that created Earth and humanity, kinda. Good news: He exists. Bad news: He's gone. As they race against All That Is Evil to save the Earth, they realize that Fate is a cruel mistress and has a very twisted sense of humor. TonyxBruce, post-Avengers, completely disregards IM3

**Genre:** Adventure, Mystery, Romance (in that order)

**Pairings:** TonyxBruce, NathashaxClint, PepperxHappy

**Disclaimer:** None of the Avengers belong to me but are already claimed by Marvel (what a shame). Bethanie Millstein is mine.

**Author's Note:** Sorry for the long wait, life can be such a bitch. Not going to get any better soon so be prepared for a lil wait. Special thanks again to **Kama-Chann**! Now, onwards with the story!

* * *

**Six – Headless Acceleration**

When the four remaining Avengers make it back to the helicarrier they are completely subdued. Bruce wakes up as they land on the deck and as his mind catches up to what has happened they have already ushered him inside. A medical response team is waiting for them but they refuse to get treated in the medical center, but ask them to do their job quietly while debriefing Fury.

The Director is worried.

He doesn't say it outright and, keeping in mind that he is _the_ spy, there are no actual outward signs of his distress. However, the Avengers consist of people whose very life often depends on reading the unreadable. Fury's mouth is a bit too thin, his lips don't quirk and there is one more line in his frown that is usually absent.

"What the fuck went wrong down there?" He bellows and it is Steve who snaps to attention.

"That's what we would like to know, Sir. With all due respect, but it has become pretty clear by now that our entire reconnaissance operation was doomed from the start, seeing how our supposed contacts betrayed us one by one." Steve's own murderous fury is evident in his voice and Bruce understands it too well.

"Director, from what Stark himself told us, he was ambushed as soon as he entered the city." Natasha explains calmly. "He never got to meet the imposter. According to Stark, the ambush was perfectly coordinated, considering it was him who went there. Anti-tank missiles, unmanned missiles, non-hackable tech. The ambush was meant for Stark-"

"Which brings us to the question how they knew it. There must be a mole. And as far as we know, it must be here." Steve concludes in a hard tone.

Before anyone else can say something Hill comes hurrying up the steps to their debriefing space, carrying a set of folders.

"Sir, these are the folders you requested."

She quickly hands them to the director before taking her trademark position at the rail, arms crossed and feet planted firmly on the ground.

"These", Fury starts explaining and shoves the folders on the table towards the team "contain all information we could gather on Agent Purple, Bergsten and Gnair. Nothing we've found so far could explain why they changed sides."

"Purple, that Stark's contact?" Clint chimes in, leaning forward from where he is perching on his chair, intent on grabbing the folders. However, the Widow is quicker and snatches them before him. He throws her a glare, which she pointedly ignores.

"Correct, Agent Barton. We can also safely assume that Stark contacted her. We relayed her number to him; it seems very likely that he contacted her before the ambush."

"We know, he told us he was on the way to meet her when the shit hit the fan. There is more though." Clint says uneasily and glances towards Rogers who catches on quickly.

"Those imposters must have been linked somehow. Their reactions were chained, first there was Stark's ambush, then Hawkeye and Dr. Banner get attacked by their contact and just as they tell us to be vary, our imposter reacts. It's just too much of a coincidence."

"It is most likely some sort of mental link."

"So why attack one after another? Why give warnings when they could have ambushed at the same time, bypassing any preparation? It makes so fucking sense."

"Actually it does." Banner chimes in. All gazes turn to him but he glances down and takes off his glasses. His stress is evident in the way he rubs the bridge of his nose and fumbles with the hems of his shirt.

"They knew we were coming. They knew our team composition and they know us all well enough to understand our strengths and weaknesses. However, despite their many advantages, they didn't attack us on first sight, save for Tony. They allowed us to get close, to inspect the situation, knowing that they could get us any time. That allows us one simple conclusion: They are toying with us."

Helpless silence envelopes the group. It makes sense, all of sudden. However, Fury gets straight back to the main issue.

"So we have a grasp on what the enemy was trying to do, what we still don't know is how they managed to get all their dirty fingers on all of that knowledge. However, getting back Stark is your first priority."

Natasha, having quickly leafed through the folders, clears her throat.

"No offense Director, but I think we should plan this ourselves. To reduce the risk of anything getting out, we should keep everything within the team now. Nothing in these," She points towards the folders in her hands, "held any indicators as to why those agents betrayed us. Which means this is either hidden so well that we won't find it that easily or there is no mole to be found at all."

"What are you implying, Agent Romanoff?"

"The Chitauri incident appeared to be very far from what we usually deal with, simply because Barton getting compromised was some sort of alien magic we didn't know at that point. We don't know everything out there; this could simply be something along those lines."

Bruce feels like cursing. Why hasn't he thought of something like that? Isn't it a law that the least unlikely of possibilities will become reality?

They leave the briefing quickly and under the dark gaze of Fury.

* * *

One after another they enter the lab that has been dubbed as Bruce's since the Chitauri incident. The physicist sits down, the other three remain standing. It is Rogers who speaks first.

"So, how do we do this?" His gaze locks on Natasha who frowns slightly.

"Just for now, we should assume that the four of us are clean. However, keep in mind that I could be mistaken in that assumption."

Her cold eyes sweep upon each of them before she resumes speaking.

"If there is a mole within SHIELD we should be able to keep them out with this. If, however, I am right and this is not a simple mole, we will have to be cleverer. If they are spying us with, well, _magic_," she scrunches her nose, "we don't know how far it goes. Are they only listening? Are they watching? Are they doing both? Is it fixed on a certain vantage point, is it centered one a person, one of us?"

"If it really is magic, there are too many unknown variables in this mess. It may be that there is no way to counter it, which means we-"

Bruce softly clears his throat and receives Roger's questioning stare.

"There might be a way."

Three pairs of eyes snap to him.

"Remember Loki's scepter? When he tried using it on Tony-"

"Wait, what? Loki used the scepter on Stark?" Natasha explodes icily. Bruce uneasily takes off his glasses and frowns.

"He didn't feel like telling anyone afterwards. It didn't work, obviously, but he was still afraid it might have had some effect on, well, his chest piece."

Comprehension dawns in Rogers' eyes.

"You're saying that Stark's tech kind of _blocked _Loki's magic?"

Bruce looks back up, a darker frown on his face. It's Natasha again who gets it first.

"Moron.", she curses softly towards Rogers who blinks in confusion. Before anyone else can say something, Bruce turns and taps one of the large computer screens. Under the watchful or confused stares of his teammates he composes a few quick sentences before turning the screen towards them.

_/If I assume correctly, and we are spied magically, this should keep us safe. They may be able to watch us and listen to us, but if Tony's experience with alien magic is any indicator, they won't be able to grasp this. We still shouldn't flaunt it though./_

Natasha moves towards a different screen and types her own opinion.

_/So, as long as we are sneaky about checking screens for messages, they can't read them?/_

_/I hope so. Whatever magic it is, it might not be able to understand what basically is just a bunch of really tiny particles moving./_

Rogers, forever uncomfortable around modern technology shifts uneasily. Barton suppresses a quick grin, only to move swiftly towards an unoccupied screen.

_/Since we got rid of that issue, I wanna let our resident Greeny try to get JARVIS./_

In the relative silence of the lab, Bruce's sigh carries to each of them. He glares into space, clearly unhappy with what he is about to do. He has already revealed one of Tony's secrets and he is about to show the rest of their team, just how deep the friendship and trust between the two scientists already runs. Bruce has always been a private person and revealing things that he has come to treasure recently doesn't sit well with him.

Another sigh stumbles past his lips.

No matter how uncomfortable he is with this, there is something too important to him on the line.

"Jarvis, run protocol Charlie Romeo India Sierra India Sierra Epsilon Three One Tango." His voice rings out calmly and before the other three can react, a disembodied voice speaks from the ceiling.

'_Emergency protocol Charlie Romeo India Sierra India Sierra Epsilon Three One Tango initiated by Dr. Robert Bruce Banner. Running data check-up. Initiating threat scan. Confirming identity scans. Emergency protocol Charlie Romeo India Sierra India Sierra Epsilon Three One Tango launched. Good Evening, Dr. Banner.'_

It's J.A.R.V.I.S.

Barton displays a smug grin as he watches Natasha struggle with a blank expression while Rogers' jaw seemingly tries connecting with the floor.

"Jarvis, we are in a tight spot here. Can you connect us to Tony, or at least tell us his position and status?"

'_I am currently completely cut off from the Iron Man suit that Sir used last. Sir activated hostile protocols at 13:12 local time. All connections were cut off at 13:21 local time. The last data that was relayed confirmed four incoming missiles that appear to have hit the suit. The suit should have withstood the explosions. There is 16.01% that the suit got destroyed from the blast.'_

It is the artificial voice of an artificial intelligence and yet Bruce can hear the worry and concern underneath.

"Can you connect to any surveillance in the area?"

'_I have already established a connection with all accessible security cameras in a 100 mile radius around Sir's last known location. At 13:21 local time a large blast was seen in the sky above Appleton downtown. When the sky cleared, the Iron Man suit was no longer visible. It has not reappeared since.'_

"How are we supposed to find Stark then?" Rogers asks.

The A.I. doesn't reply immediately and Bruce's barely audible groan tells them that he will have to reveal yet another one of Stark's countless secrets. He receives three incredulous glances as he curses softly before launching into an angry explanation.

"Ever since Tony's abduction in Afghanistan, he has been paranoid with getting kidnapped. In order to prevent something like that, he placed a GPS transmitter in his chest."

Rogers utters quick 'thank you' towards the ceiling.

"So we locate this GPS tracker in his chest, get his location and retrieve Stark."

"Keep in mind that we might need some sort of plan, depending on what kind of location he is in. Knowing his exact position might narrow it down, but we should be prepared for anything, nonetheless." Natasha adds.

Barton grins excitedly.

"So, let's get to work."

Three pairs of eyes land on Bruce again who rubs his eyes tiredly with his palm.

"There is one more problem. To access the tracker one requires a password, code, voice confirmation and fingerprint."

"And let me guess, you two are not close enough yet that he considered including you?" Steve asks, deadpanned.

Bruce shakes his head.

"I think he just hasn't thought of it."

"He always claims being a _genius_. He must have thought of it." Rogers spats, the annoyance clear in his voice.

"Maybe he doesn't like being reminded of it and unconsciously avoids the entire topic?" Bruce retorts acidly.

Before Rogers can reply again, Natasha intervenes harshly.

"Alright, guys, stop it! None of this is helpful right now, so how about we concentrate on the matter at hand? Dr. Banner, who knows how to access this tracker in Stark's chest?"

The physicist swallows.

"The only ones who can help us now are Ms. Potts and Colonel Rhodes."

"But?"

"Ms. Potts is in Florence, Italy at the moment, Rhodes is stationed somewhere in the Middle East. It will cost a lot of time before we can get a hold of them."

His voice conveys most of his inner turmoil. Because Bruce is restless. There is too much anger and worry and concern within and with every second that ticks by where Tony is in danger, it will become more and more unbearable. Until it becomes too much.

And nothing in this world could hold back the Hulk if he thinks his precious Tin Man is in danger.

* * *

Hope you enjoyed! Stay tuned!

~Leena


	7. Seven - A First Clue

**The Nature of the Beast and the Beast of Nature**

**Summary: **What happens when, after all that supernatural, alien craziness; the Avengers come across…God. The omnipotent being that created Earth and humanity, kinda. Good news: He exists. Bad news: He's gone. As they race against All That Is Evil to save the Earth, they realize that Fate is a cruel mistress and has a very twisted sense of humor. TonyxBruce, post-Avengers, completely disregards IM3

**Genre:** Adventure, Mystery, Romance (in that order)

**Pairings:** TonyxBruce, NathashaxClint, PepperxHappy

**Disclaimer:** None of the Avengers belong to me but are already claimed by Marvel (what a shame). Bethanie Millstein is mine.

**Author's Note: **I realized how stupid it was to let the one person who is the easiest to write for me go missing. Alas, I shall do my very best to get him back! Very special thanks to **Kama-Chann**. After reading your lovely comment I stalked your profile and tumblr and, as the internet goes, went missing there. I came across so many brilliant ideas and thoughts and images that my brain got fried (I think). It made me want to write faster to get Tony back, so I can write all those sappy TonyxBruce moments that are haunting my muse now.

Also, I enabled PMs and anonymous reviews. Totally didn't realize I didn't have that. Anyways, onwards, it is!

* * *

**Seven – A First Clue**

The four Avengers are in a deep debate over who to contact first; Ms. Potts or Colonel Rhodes. Underneath the obvious (and audible) conversation, there is a quiet one happening on the screens. They compare notes, experiences, any hints on their enemies. They consider scenarios, make plans, and create diversions. They prepare.

At some point they take a break to change into new clothes or uniforms, whichever they need. They eat some snacks; get a check-up on whatever minor injuries they had. When they get back to the lab, Bruce decides to take matters in hand and contacts Ms. Potts. Their conversation goes considerably smooth; Pepper Potts is controlled enough to not let her almost overpowering fear for Tony mess with her as she promises to make arrangements to get back to the US. When he hangs up, Bruce remains silent for a few moments, thoughts circling around the queen of the Stark Industries empire.

Tony is lucky to have her.

The sound of the lab door opening interrupts his musings and makes him look up. For a moment, he experiences a sudden spout of discomfort, thinking that JARVIS might have been detected. However, as he sees the nondescript agent, he relaxes again. Until the man opens his mouth.

"We have a lead."

All of their attention is securely directed on the agent now. Bruce trusts JARVIS to keep their entire conversations secret, if not outright deleting the traces of them. While he grabs his jacket, Rogers gives him a knowing nod.

"Let's go."

When they reach the command center, a flurry of action meets their eyes. Hill is yelling commands left and right under the one ever watchful eye of Fury. When the Avengers come closer, he turns to them with a dark expression.

"We compared surveillance of Muskegon, Appleton and Galesburg. Face recognition picked up a man and woman who were seen in all three towns extensively in the course of the past two to four weeks. It's still working on the man, but the woman was confirmed as a Bethanie Millstein."

An agent approaches, bearing four manila folders that he hands to each Avenger. They all open them quickly, tearing through the information like a starved man through his first meal. It's Rogers who speaks up first.

"A high school science teacher?"

Disbelief colors his tone and none of them can begrudge him the sentiment.

"She was seen several times in the towns, with no apparent reason. As far as we know she actually lives in Washington, making her _appearances_ even more questionable."

"So we're going to visit her?"

"Considering what happened to your god damned contacts, it'd be better if you went yourselves."

"Don't trust your own agents anymore?"

It's Bruce who has spoken up and several surprised heads turn in his direction. The director narrows his eyes but doesn't deem the comment with a reply. Instead, he gives them proper coordinates and sends them off.

On the way to the Quinjet, the four make a detour to the lab.

Bruce connects his phone (it's a Stark phone and Tony bugged him for two weeks _straight_ until he accepted it) to one of the larger machines in the lab. Silently he issues JARVIS to look for any info on Bethanie Millstein that the A.I. can find and send it to his phone. As he feels his teammates' questioning stares, he composes a quick message and sends it to their phones. It's how they decided to communicate when it comes to more delicate issues. They hope it will keep their enemy out.

Out of what, Bruce isn't sure yet.

Only a few minutes later they have assembled at the Quinjet. Natasha claims the pilot's seat with purpose, Barton not far behind her in claiming the seat next to her. Rogers remains standing behind them, watching them work with fascination. Bruce settles in the back again, whips out his phones and studies whatever information JARVIS is sending him.

* * *

They find Bethanie Millstein on her way home from work.

The school she works at is the West Valley High, nestled on a hill a bit off from town. Most students have left the building already when the woman exits the school, yelling something back over her shoulder. Her car, a dark blue pick-up, is fairly close to the entrance and as she walks to the vehicle, she says friendly good-byes to the few students she passes. Without haste, she opens the driver's door, enters the car and starts the engines. Leaving the school's parking lot, she turns right and is on her way.

Nothing indicates that something is off. Nothing could explain why, as Natasha watches the woman, every instinct in her mind screams in outrage at some wrongness.

Rogers, who sits next to her, mimics her scowl.

After starting their own car, they follow their suspect at a safe distance. It's barely fifteen minutes later when they find themselves in the city's suburbs where Natasha is forced to stop their car as they watch Millstein do the same. The woman parks her car at the curb, leaves the vehicle and trots towards the tiny house she parked in front of, nestled between trees.

Natasha and Rogers share a look and a nod, before exiting their car and moving towards Millstein's house. They stay behind trees and bushes as they move towards the backyard, where they know that Clint has already positioned himself earlier. Through the windows, Natasha watches the woman's every movement.

The simply garden offers enough bushes (roses and bleeding hearts, both in bloom) where they can crouch and hide behind. The window to what appears to be the kitchen is slightly open and they can hear the TV running in the living room. A coffee machine gets started as they creep closer. They move towards a tiny terrace where a porch swing and several potted plants are located. A simple glass door leads into the house. Natasha presses herself close to the wall and motions for Rogers to come closer. A quick glance shows her that Millstein is still bustling in the kitchen. Several hand signals are exchanged; Natasha will go inside alone, Rogers will stay outside, just in reach. She completely trusts Clint wherever he is hiding, knowing his eyes see everything, knowing he will intervene if anything happens.

Natasha is about to move towards the door when she notes a sudden stillness. The movement in the kitchen has ceased, even the TV appears to be muted. She narrows her eyes.

"You can come in, the door isn't locked."

The clear voice carries easily and she can practically feel Rogers' tensing muscles. An instinctual glance through the kitchen window gives her the impression of a pair of eyes, locked right onto her. The Widow ducks and curses under her breath.

"And tell your Archer to come in as well; there are squirrels in that tree, they don't like him there."

Natasha looks at Rogers' conflicted face and almost misses the sound of the door opening an inch. However, she only catches a retreating back. Again, she glances towards their team leader. He gives a nod, straightens and moves past her, right into the house.

When nothing happens to him as he passes the threshold, she decides to follow.

The interior of the house seems simple. The walls are a pastel color, the furniture consists of white wood and a lot of glass. There is an abnormally large amount of books, and an absence of pictures. It is also rather neat, not a single item out of place, which rings a warning bell in her mind.

Nobody has actually been living here for some time. The place is too clean, too untouched.

As she follows Rogers towards what doubles as living and dining room, she can't help but feel some sort of concern. This entire situation is wrong and it seems like it won't get solved anytime soon. It gets worse, somehow, as they enter the room. It looks like the rest of the house she's seen so far, if only with more books. What makes her tense, however, is the woman.

Bethanie Millstein is, as she knows from the files, a 34 year-old science teacher. She is a few inch taller than Natasha but not nearly as slim as the assassin. Her brown hair falls past her shoulders; the long fringe is brushed to the side where a dark hair clip keeps it in place. Dark blue eyes, probably slightly larger than average, peek from behind stylish glasses. As she takes them off a purple hue glimmers in the depths. Clad in a dark grey button-down shirt and bright blue jeans, she appears so very average and _normal_ that Natasha's warning bells go off.

An amused expression has settled on the woman's face as she lets the redhead study her. She appears relaxed as she gestures towards the dining table, where a large pot of coffee, a can of milk, a tiny bowl filled to the brim with sugar cubes and four cups sit inconspicuously.

"My colleagues claim I make the best coffee in town, so suit yourselves." Millstein says nonchalantly before she settles on a chair and fills her own cup without a care in the world.

Clint chooses that moment to appear in the doorway. He completely avoids Natasha's gaze as he strides towards the table, plops down on a chair and pours himself a cup of coffee. A quick hand snatches three sugar cubes that he dumbs into the black liquid. After stirring a solid six times with the spoon that lay next to the cup he takes a sip.

(Unlike Natasha whose incredulous gaze is still fixed on Barton, Steve doesn't miss the twitch of Millstein's fingers.)

"Mhm, you're right. That's some good stuff." Clint says as he sets the cup down. Millstein smiles a ridiculously warm and open smile that completely pushes Natasha off the edge.

"This descends into the Mad Tea Party." She mutters under her breath. Rogers throws her a quick glance, for once understanding what she is referring to. Being the responsible team leader he is, he starts speaking.

"Ms. Millstein, in the past few weeks, you have been seen in Appleton, Wisconsin; Muskegon, Michigan and Galesburg, Illinois. Today there have been attacks on members of my team on all three sites. What I would like to know is what you were doing in all three towns without any apparent reason."

His voice is friendly and yet bears every ounce of authority a Captain America can muster. However, Millstein only leans forward, puts her elbow on the table and curls her hand under her chin. Her smile stays warm and unconcerned.

"So you've spotted a science teacher from Yakima, Washington, an average civilian _woman_", she fakes a soft gasp and her smile gains a sarcastic edge, "in the towns where members of the Avengers Initiative were attacked so _viciously_. How do you expect a normal citizen like me to even be connected to something _abominable_ like that?"

Surprisingly Natasha snaps at her tone.

"Give us one good reason to not haul you back to headquarters for intensive questioning. One good reason why we shouldn't suspect you to be the one who's been messing with those places. Who's been violating all laws of nature. Who _took out Iron Man_."

Millstone narrows her eyes and a predatory snarl escapes her lips.

"Don't think I don't know what's been going on there. There are so many more places being messed with. What happens to your team is a side issue and not my concern."

With a furious expression she pushes herself away from the table and turns her back to them. Natasha's hand itches back to her gun. One quick motion and the weapon is trained on Millstein. The click of unlocking safety reverberates through the room. Completely unconcerned, the woman doesn't turn back around. After a few tense moments of silence, they can hear her speaking again.

"I do, however, understand _your_ concern."

With a sigh, she turns back to them. Her expression is serious now, her lips are thin.

"Your surveillance must have picked up someone else. A man, who has been in all those towns. He's the one I'm looking for. He's the one messing with nature. And he will probably be responsible for what happened to your friend."

"You know him?" Rogers cuts to the point.

"I know _of _him."

"Anything you can tell us?"

Something dark crosses her face, but she cools her expression quickly.

"He calls himself Malak. He is trying to awaken the Nym, a creature that will destroy Earth if he succeeds."

* * *

Things are getting real interesting. Hope you enjoyed!

~Leena


	8. Eight - A Double-edged Messenger

**The Nature of the Beast and the Beast of Nature**

**Summary: **When the Avengers, by accident (naturally), uncover a long forgotten secret harbored within the earth, their lives go downhill. A mysterious beast awakens and the team has to seek unlikely allies in even unlikelier places. Old myths take shape and the past has never played such a crucial rule. However, fate has always had a twisted sense of humor and each one of them has to realize that the hardest battles are the ones fought with one's self.

**Genre:** Adventure, Mystery, Romance (in that order)

**Pairings:** TonyxBruce, NathashaxClint, PepperxHappy

**Disclaimer:** None of the Avengers belong to me but are already claimed by Marvel (what a shame).

**Author's Note: **Sorry for the long wait, but life is a bitch. I've written quite a lot of tidbits for later chapters, but updates will still be slow-ish. I can't stress it enough, but I adore reviews. Thus, special thanks go again to **Kama-Chann** and **LaNaturalBreezeOf-Books**! I'm always so grateful for your kind words and input :)

I'm also thrilled to see this story having grown past 1000 hits! I haven't published/uploaded any of my writings since I was 16, so this actually is a huge thing for me. Thank you to everyone who's been reading!

Also, **attention!** From this chapter onward I'm touching religious subjects and twisting them for my own needs. In no way do I mean to disrespect any religions or anyone's beliefs.

* * *

**Eight – A Double-edged Messenger**

"_He calls himself Malak. He is trying to awaken the Nym, a creature that will destroy Earth if he succeeds."_

'Huh.', Clint thinks to himself.

Natasha can't help herself any longer. Her anger and confusion manifest in an abnormal way – that is, abnormal for her – as she hits the table with her fist.

"Bullshit! You can't go around telling us that there's some giant creature capable of wiping out humanity and someone oh so conveniently is trying to wake it up."

"That's exactly what I'm telling you. Unless I'm mistaken, which I very much doubt, you came here with the intention to dig out the truth of this matter. Now, I may not be the person responsible for it, but I very much do know what's going on. I'm giving you the information you were looking for, what you do with it is entirely your own matter."

In the silence Natasha grits her teeth. This woman sets her on edge so awfully much, it messes with her self-control. It scares her almost as much as the stuff the woman told them.

"Would you help us trying to find that Malak? We could really use a little help from someone who seems to understand the issue." Rogers' voice is confusingly gentle and for a moment Natasha feels an involuntary urge of betrayal at his manner. Even Clint doesn't seem as concerned as he should be.

"Finding him won't be easy. I've only been trying to detain the damage he has caused but I still have my own responsibilities to uphold. I can't just abandon my job that easily."

"I suppose we could manage to get a few days of vacation for you. Would you be willing to come with us then?"

Millstein purses her lips and studies his face.

"The advantages actually do outweigh the disadvantages. Yes, I will come with you. Let me get a few things first."

And just like that, she leaves them in the room as she rushes towards the stairs. None of them make a move; Natasha is still trying her very hardest to suppress that incomprehensible anger within, the other two just don't seem to care at all. They can hear Millstein rumbling upstairs; hear the squeaks of her steps on the wooden floor. Clint is just finishing the rest of his coffee as she bounds back downstairs.

"Let's just clean that up and we're ready to go." She motions towards the cups.

Like a good puppy Rogers helps gather all the items on the table and brings them to the kitchen where Millstein washes them in the sink, as if it is the most normal thing in the world. The moment the two of them are out of view, Natasha whirls towards Clint.

"_The fuck is wrong with you?_" she hisses.

He just looks up sharply and blinks once before slightly wrinkling his nose. His arms unfold from his chest and he leans forwards, edging closer to her.

"She knew we were waiting the _entire time_. I bet she knew since the moment you came close to the school. She knew I was waiting in the tree from the moment she parked the car in front of the house. Whatever she is, we can't fool her and yet for reasons I don't quite know - yet - she chooses to help us. I'd rather not start asking stupid questions but make use of what's given to us."

His voice is quiet, the words come rapidly. His gaze is locked on her, intent, trying to convey as much of his thoughts as possible. Something about him reminds of Natasha of something, a long forgotten memory. Only it's not forgotten but ingrained into her. The same gaze, full of faith and trust and optimism. A gaze that is able to reach inside you, turn around your bare soul and recognize it for what it is. This gaze, that has been reserved for her. And now he has it for that woman.

The anger that was born out of confusion morphs into a burning jealousy.

It's irrational and stupid and something she never expected having to deal with. Ever since she accepted Clint into her life, long after they became partners, she was pretty sure that it was a one-way trip, an irreversible deal. Something unique, meant to be entirely between him and her. A safe place in the chaos that is their universe. Watching this woman invade that space now is something she never thought she'd have to deal with.

Without another word Natasha stands up and moves towards the front door. Clint seems to catch the hint as he doesn't follow her immediately, instead he appears a minute later with Rogers and Millstein. He wisely refrains from seeking her closeness and the cold rational voice inside her congratulates him on his wisdom.

"We're going to drive out of town. Another member of our team is waiting in the Quinjet there, it's an aerial vehicle we commonly use to travel with on mission." Rogers adds as they trail out of the front door. He means it as an explanation on afterthought, but Millstein only smiles in amusement.

"I am quite aware of how your 'team' works and what kind of equipment you use. In my world, you guys aren't exactly as secret as you might want to be."

Rogers stops in his tracks and looks at her wide-eyed. It makes her chuckle quietly before she turns around to lock the door. She is still smiling as she motions for him to keep on walking. While they get into the team's car and get belted up, she clarifies her statement.

"It's just basic knowledge, but it's kind of common. I mean it's like how I know your special shield is made of a really rare metal, the Widow is a Russian multi-talented assassin and the Hawk one of the world's best archers. It's just stuff that people like me know."

"People like you? You make it sound as if there's some sort of secret society out there that we aren't aware of."

The smile leaves Millstein's lips and her gaze narrows as it gains sharpness. Natasha's eyes are practically glued to the rear-view mirror and she knows Clint is listening just as intently.

"So what if? It's poetically just, kind of. I mean, even you, Captain, were born into a society that thought it was the best out there. The very tip of the evolutionary hill. And then humanity has to face the ugly truth. It's not alone out there and far from being the most advanced. Isn't it ironic now, that after finding out that you aren't alone in this big bright universe, you aren't even alone on your own little planet?" Millstein snorts darkly. "However, it's far too late to try and give you a lesson in humility. That's not why we're here after all."

She obviously considers the topic done, if the way she turns her gaze away and out of the car is any indication. Rogers probably is too much of a gentleman to call her out on it but still Natasha huffs quietly under her breath. Her irritation with her teammates is attaining new levels.

The car ride is eerily silent after that but they all watch Millstein closely. The woman however seems kind of content, as if she is more than just alright with being with them. It reminds Natasha oddly of the time when Loki was on the helicarrier. 'It's not the same.' She reminds herself strongly but the suspicion born out of the observation remains.

* * *

When Bruce hears the approaching car, he straightens in his seat. He had the time to study the mysterious Ms. Millstein, had the time to get acquainted to all there is to know about her. Yet, as his eyes land on the brunette woman, he feels a jolt of surprise pass through him. Her posture, her expression, the aura she radiates are nothing like what he expected.

He sees Natasha's hidden scowl, Clint's indifference, Rogers' curiosity. The first worries him, the second was to be expected and the third intrigues him. The Widow brushes by him without another word to start the Quinjet and get them into the air. That Clint doesn't follow her surprises him. The physicist hides the narrowing of his eyes by pushing up his glasses.

"Dr. Banner, this is Bethanie Millstein. Ms. Millstein, this is Dr. Banner, Avenger and respected scientist."

Under Rogers' watchful gaze they shake hands.

"It's my pleasure to finally make your acquaintance, Dr. Banner. I've read quite a number of your papers. A brilliant mind and a mindful beast, hidden behind those innocent dark eyes. I was warned you were going to be charming, but I just didn't expect it to be to this extent." She says it all with a bright and amused smile and even goes as far as to wink at the end.

Bruce blinks owlishly and can't fight the slight blush on his cheeks. He supposes it could be much worse, but being with Tony dealt with some of his shyness. The thought is enough to sober him and he can only give her a frown as he replies.

"I'm glad you decided to join us for the time being, Ms. Millstein. We have many questions, and hope you can help us with some of them."

Rogers motions towards a close seat before grabbing something to hold on to, as he hears Natasha start the Quinjet. It lifts off the ground and sways gently before they can feel the pull of acceleration. Not once do they feel any unsteadiness.

"A good pilot, that Widow." Millstein quietly remarks. Bruce and Rogers share a quick glance but say nothing.

Under the engines' gentle hum, Bruce grabs one of the larger tablets.

"Ms. Millstein, our research has shown us several places other than Appleton, Galesburg and Muskegon. Is there any way you can confirm our suspicions there?"

Her expression turns thoughtful as she studies the data shown.

"I have to admit I'm quite surprised at how much you managed to pick up. Even I haven't been able to keep a complete track of where these changes have taken place. Your Captain told me that while tracking me down, you also came across a man who was seen in those three towns?"

"Yes, even though we haven't confirmed a name on him yet."

"Ms. Millstein says his name is 'Malak'." Rogers interjects. The woman nods earnestly.

"I'm not familiar with his kind, but I do know of him."

Bruce rubs his forehead in contemplation. "So I've heard. His name is 'Malak', you say?"

A slight smile seems to graze her lips. "Ring any bells, Doctor?"

"If I remember correctly, _mal'ak _is an old Semitic world for angel."

"Do you know what angels were also called? Many religions see eye to eye on that one. Their basic function, so to speak."

"Messengers of God."

"Correct. Malak considers himself a messenger, bearing not just news but also change."

"Change?"

Millstein throws a quick glance towards Rogers.

"Right, as I already told your team, Malak is trying to awaken a creature that has been dormant for millennia. Fun fact is that the beast is located underneath Lake Michigan. He is trying to trigger it awake."

"How?"

"Well, you see, this beast was kind of _programmed_ to awaken only under very special circumstances. When the ecosystem surrounding the lake gets destroyed or just upset heavily enough; which basically equals unnatural radiation levels, temperature, pressure, lack of organic life; it's meant to rise from sleep."

"And you claim this creature will destroy earth then?"

"Not just _claim_, Dr. Banner. This beast was created for the single purpose of resetting earth to square one. A reboot."

"Ms. Millstein, you always say 'was created' or 'was programmed'." Rogers interrupts with a disbelieving frown. "Are you implying someone created that thing with all of that resetting stuff in mind, and put the thing under the earth?"

The woman turns towards him with raised eyebrows.

"Aren't you a Christian, Captain Rogers? Surely you are acquainted with the general idea of a Maker, a Creator, God?"

Thee pairs of owlish eyes – because yes, Clint hears enough from where he's perched in the corner - stare incredulously at her.

"You-you are saying...God is...real?"

Millstein snorts quietly and rolls her eyes.

"If you refer to God as the pretty much omnipotent being that created Earth and humanity? Yes, God is very much real."

* * *

Hope you liked that twist! It's actually the prompt/general idea that started this whole thing.

~Leena


	9. Nine - Catching Kittens with Bananas

**The Nature of the Beast and the Beast of Nature**

**Summary: **What happens when, after all that supernatural, alien craziness; the Avengers come across…God. The omnipotent being that created Earth and humanity, kinda. Good news: He exists. Bad news: He's gone. As they race against All That Is Evil to save the Earth, they realize that Fate is a cruel mistress and has a very twisted sense of humor. TonyxBruce, post-Avengers, completely disregards IM3

**Genre:** Adventure, Mystery, Romance (in that order)

**Pairings:** TonyxBruce, NathashaxClint, PepperxHappy

**Disclaimer:** None of the Avengers belong to me but are already claimed by Marvel (what a shame). Bethanie Millstein is mine.

**Author's Note: **As always, special thanks to my reviewers** reckless is a wreck **and** Kama-Chann! **As it happens, Kama-Chann raised an interesting point: Bethanie Millstein is an original character of mine. She was meant as this really kind, nice and supportive character. But somewhere in between my brain and my magical typing fingers she turned into this no-nonsense person who is really _not_ liked by our most beloved Avengers. A pity, isn't it?

Also, I've updated the summary, so don't get confused :) As I started this entire story in a haze and didn't expect it to go so well (and far) I've had the time to think about where this is going, and what _should be_ in the summary.

And last but not least I have already finished the next chapter as well. I'm just going to do some tweaking around so you can expect it within the next 2-3 days. :)

* * *

**Nine – Catching Kittens with Bananas**

They are glad, really, when after the heavy silence following Millstein's presumptuous comment Natasha yells at them to get seated and get a better hold. A quick look out of the front-shield window clears their confusion immediately: They are heading straight into a storm.

"Did we get any kind of storm warning?" Rogers murmurs next to Bruce in a barely audible tone. The physicist frowns as he follows their Captain's train of thoughts. The skies should have been clear all day, at least on the routes they would be taking. And how come a storm could develop at this altitude? A glance towards Millstein only increases his suspicions. She is peering out as well, a dark frown marring her features.

"This is no natural storm." She tells him in a low whisper, barely audible over hum of the Quinjet

"We should be able to avoid the brunt of it when we take a different path!" Natasha yells back to them over the sudden noise that is increasing in volume with every passing second. Barton is steadily working from the seat next to her; in a crisis their lover's spat is forgotten. They are working on a new route, one that will lead them around the storm. Even though it will take much longer, they don't feel like engaging this force of nature. The wall of clouds is right in front of them and they can already see the first flashes of lightning. The Quinjet starts diving to the side.

"NO!" Millstein screams and lunges forward. Reflexively, Rogers halts her in her tracks but every pair of eyes lands on her as she struggles in his hold. In almost the same moment, a large blast hits the Quinjet. Bruce can barely catch a bar to hold himself upright but Rogers and Millstein lose their balance. As they get thrown to the side, Rogers - ever the gentleman - manages to soften the woman's fall.

Before any of them can catch their bearing again, the Quinjet takes another hit, this time from the top. Natasha and Barton scream something from their seats, but for a tense moment the howling wind and thunder drowns any other sound. The lights inside the Quinjet flicker and die, the few emergency bulbs springing to life. In the half-light, illuminated only by flashes of lightning Bruce manages to get a look at Millstein. Her mood seems to reflect the weather outside; she is really angry and he could swear he sees her eyes starting to glow purple.

"ROMANOFF!" She screams as she tries standing up. Under the constant trembling of the Quinjet she makes her way to the pilot's seat. Bruce can barely make out what she's saying as she leans down towards Natasha.

"Romanoff, you need to pull through that storm! I can create a force shield that should protect us but I can't hold it very long. We need to get through that storm quickly!"

Just as furious, Natasha turns her head slightly to yell back. "We don't know how large the storm is nor do we know where it's headed. It's too risky to fly through it!"

Millstein shakes her head in exasperation. "Romanoff, please, I know you don't like me, but you have to trust me." Another blow from the side makes the Quinjet shudder violently and the sudden lights that flash inside the cockpit make them aware of the increasing damage to their vehicle. Natasha frowns, still suspicious.

"Why should we enter a storm with an invisible attacker on our heels?"

"Because if I'm right he can't control the storm. And once we're inside he be able to attack us anymore. I'm pretty sure the storm will mess up his senses enough to get us away from him."

"Wait, Ms. Millstein, do you think this is that Malak attacking us?" Rogers cuts in.

She shakes her head again. "I don't think it's him in person, but one of his minions. Whoever that is must have summoned the storm via magic, which would explain why he can't control it properly. And if he needs to magic to summon a storm, it should effectively block us from him."

"So you say you can protect us against the storm, and the storm protects us against this enemy?"

Millstein nods and looks expectantly at Natasha. The Widow huffs in frustration and mutters something Russian under her breath but before anyone can say something else she starts flicking some switches and directs the Quinjet back onto the path leading straight into the storm. One more blow makes them go to their knees but this time Rogers is prepared and manages to keep Millstein steady and safe. The woman only smiles in amusement and throws him a thankful glance.

Bruce watches in fascination when Millstein closes her eyes in concentration and lowers her head. Her entire body seems to flicker for a few seconds and his scientific curiosity explodes when he notices a pearly white light coming off her skin. Within seconds, the light radiates outwards. It is irregular, especially how it envelopes the Captain completely before expanding further. The shimmering barrier keeps spreading steadily and Bruce feels a jolt pass through him when it comes in contact with him. But when nothing else happens, he returns to being incredibly fascinated. Mere moments later the sphere hits Barton and Natasha who both tense up and throw each other uneasy looks. Yet as they remain unruffled, they watch with fascination as well.

"That the shield you mentioned?" Rogers asks with a child's curiosity just when he assumes the sphere has completely enveloped the Quinjet. Millstein keeps her eyes closed but hums affirmatively. Even the sounds of the howling storm seem to have dimmed, their flight is once again steady and straight.

When Bruce looks out, he can see the milky white wall shimmering around them. Thanks to its luminosity, the storm doesn't look as dark as it probably is. They can see lightning crashing right in front of them and they can hear the thunder as if it booming right next to them, yet they remain completely undisturbed.

"Are you sure this is safe?" Natasha calls over her shoulder, "I mean, we're flying completely blind right now."

Millstein frowns in response before replying in a grave tone, "If we actually hit anyone else who is insane enough to fly into this storm my shield won't save neither of us. How about we pray for the sanity of others."

And in that moment, Bruce can feel a spark of fondness springing to life inside of him. It's not much and he still is incredibly suspicious of this strange woman who claims to know so much and have abilities beyond their imagination. And yet he finds himself enjoying her attitude ; especially as she seems to resemble his probably closest friend more and more. The thought of the engineer fills him with a bittersweet sorrow and affection.

He just hopes Bethanie Millstein will stay true to her claims and find Tony for them.

* * *

When they exit the last storm cloud about twenty minutes later, none of them can believe their eyes. Before them, the sky is completely clear again, the blue slowly turning into a darker shade of itself as the night approaches. The lack of explanation for the storm makes them believe Millstein's words at last.

"If it really had been Malak, we would have had some troubles actually. He is much more comfortable with this kind of magic and he has a certain knack when it comes to manipulating nature."

Bruce watches her before pushing up his glasses.

"Say, Ms. Millstein-"

"Call me Bethanie, Dr. Banner. When you call me by my surname I feel like I'm back at school and you are mere school children, trying to find enlightenment or at least some entertainment in class." she interrupts him mid-sentence with a faint smirk on her lips.

He pauses and studies her expression, understanding her under-handed comparison – it's not quite insult, though not very far from being one. She actually does consider them children. A thought enters his mind but it doesn't make itself clear enough so he dismisses it again.

"You know, Bethanie, I can't help but wonder why you decided to come with us. Actually," he takes his glasses off and frowns into the air, forcing his thoughts into comprehensible bundles, "I wonder about a lot of things when it comes to you."

Under Rogers' watchful gaze she turns to look at him, her expression mockingly open. The fact that he didn't offer her a familiar address isn't lost on her.

"Well, _Dr. Banner_, I would be seriously offended if you didn't have an odd hundred and something questions running through that charmingly disheveled head of yours."

(He blames Tony and his constant teasing but he can't help but brush his hand through his hair at Millstein's words. She's right, his hair is a mess – why didn't he get a new haircut yet?)

She smirks as if she's reading his mind at that very moment. The embarrassment reminds him of Tony, the somber thought that helps him get back on his tracks.

"So, are you going to give me some answers?"

"Why not. Shoot."

"Why are you with us? You don't think us smart enough, or at least lacking important knowledge."

"As I've already said, the advantages do outweigh the disadvantages. By officially allying myself with you, you or your agency won't interfere with what I have to do. Plus, you might actually be helpful trying to find Malak. That pimp has managed to avoid me so far, and I'd really like to just finish this nonsense rather sooner than later."

He pauses, looking across at her from under his lashes. This confidence. The sure knowledge that this is her job, her duty. The willful ignorance or others who might help. Her disregard for the powers and positions of others. He catches her gaze and looks at her intently, signaling her that he's pursuing a different train of thought before asking in a low voice: "He's gone, isn't he?"

Millstein tilts her head and regards him curiously. He knows that she knows what he means. The one thought that has been constantly running through his head ever since she mentioned it. The corner of her lips turn down as a mix of sadness and anger morphs her features.

"Yes."

"For how long?"

"Forever."

"Since?"

"A couple of years. Try a century."

"You were raised to trust him."

"Yes."

He takes a slow breath.

"You are doing his job."

"As far as I can. I'm just me. I'm just one. I'm alone."

It's his turn to tilt his head and regard strangely, with something akin to compassion in his brown eyes.

"I see."

At once, he can watch a stoic mask fall over her face. He really must have hit something when it bothers her so much. _I'm alone_. Her words echo in his head. There is something else, something that goes far deeper than what is going on at the moment.

Before he can think more about his discovery, Rogers speaks up suddenly.

"I'm very sorry to interrupt you, but we are approaching the helicarrier. Director Fury will most likely want to have a word with her, so you should simply postpone this until you get some quiet. Or until the entire team is present."

When Millstein smiles and nods, Bruce can't help but feel a sliver of apprehension. This woman is going to get what she wants very soon and he can't predict what she will do afterward.

In fact, he doubts that anyone else can.

* * *

Hope you liked that. Tasty reviews are tasty. *yum*

~Leena


	10. Ten - The Gamemaster

**The Nature of the Beast and the Beast of Nature**

**Summary: **What happens when, after all that supernatural, alien craziness; the Avengers come across…God. The omnipotent being that created Earth and humanity, kinda. Good news: He exists. Bad news: He's gone. As they race against All That Is Evil to save the Earth, they realize that Fate is a cruel mistress and has a very twisted sense of humor. TonyxBruce, post-Avengers, completely disregards IM3

**Genre:** Adventure, Mystery, Romance (in that order)

**Pairings:** TonyxBruce, NathashaxClint, PepperxHappy

**Disclaimer:** None of the Avengers belong to me but are already claimed by Marvel (what a shame). Bethanie Millstein is mine.

**Author's Note: **As promised, another chapter already. And here, my very favorite Avenger is back again. You can't imagine what a relief it was to write with him again, as he is the most fun and easy to portrait in my opinion.

* * *

**Ten – The Gamemaster**

"...It's pissing me-"

Tony can't even finish cursing when the missiles hit him. The explosion come off so close to one another that he cannot even make out how many there are. And while the suit is protecting him from the force and the direct fire, the heat is still very much _there_ and almost unbearable in its intensity. It's the sound – noise, really – that is worse. For a single moment he fears that he is going deaf, guilt and sorrow almost immediately intertwining with the fear – he wouldn't be able to hear Jarvis anymore. With a pained and very, very angry growl he grits his teeth. He will not succumb to this tiny assault! He is Tony Stark, he is the Iron Man and he has withstood worse!

He snaps to attention as the smoke starts dispersing. He knows that once the sky is clear again and they – whoever those cowardly attackers might be – would continue their relentless assault. He has to create a diversion if he wants to get out. Or better yet, he has to...

A fierce smile stretches on his lips.

He has to simply vanish.

He still can't hear anything but one rational part of his brain supplies him with the thought that it might just be due to the explosion and get cured in time. Now, there is only the painful and annoying ringing in his ears that he ignores with a stubbornness honed in years of working with Pepper. It complicates things though as he can't depend on Jarvis' verbal commands and status updates for the moment. But well, he has had to live without Jarvis before. _He_ is Iron Man after all.

Praying that most of the suit's knickknacks didn't get damaged too much he fumbles for the hidden button on the inside of his left wrist. He can't be sure if it still works but his display only flashes with messages of success.

As the sky clears, Iron Man is gone.

Or at least, no longer visible. Carefully, Tony lowers himself a few feet. The reflective holo-panels seem to be working just fine – pretty much perfect as any of the things he adds regularly to his suit. Now, all is left to do is find out how much his enemy relies on their sense of vision.

He gets his answers almost immediately when an invisible force pummels him in his chest. For a few precious fractions of a second, the panels flicker but hold steady. What is worse however is the tightness in his chest. He can feel it in his core, in the tissue around the Arc and it is steadily building towards becoming painful. Instinct born out of rising fear makes him activate his thrusters to push against the invisible force.

But whatever hit his chest is still pushing. It gains intensity and power and there is nothing left for him to do, nothing to hit, nothing to shoot. He is left hanging, resistance futile as he moves by the reins of this invisible thing, like a puppet on strings, dancing to the whims of its master. All of sudden the force gains direction, pushes him downwards. Gravitation adds to the pull and from his display he knows he is approaching the ground with deathly velocity.

The impact makes his mind go blank. For a moment, there is only blackness and the absence of air in his chest. He is the puppet whose strings have been cut. His limbs are numb and the pain spreads through every part of his body which he is suddenly so very aware of. He can feel his Arc reactor stutter, his heart mimicking and for a moment he is sure he is going to die right there.

Within an instant, the pressure is gone. He still feels the pain of his crushed limbs and the broken metal digging sharply into his flesh. The blood that seeps out of countless cuts is warm and his muscles shiver as they notice the sudden cold that envelopes his body. As he slowly picks up the pieces of his scattered mind his brain notifies him of two things at once.

His face-plate is gone and he can hear approaching steps.

Everything rushes back into place and with a painful groan he twists around, trying to get to his feet. The metal protests as does his body but in that moment he is only glad to have his hearing back. Every limb in his body screams at the ache and he is dimly aware that he hasn't been this messed up since Afghanistan but his stubbornness returns. He will always be defiant in the wake of approaching doom.

As he scrambles to his knees he notes the static silence of his intercom and for a moment he is fiercely grateful that his comrades – as worried as they must be – won't witness any of this. (And yet he is sorry; he would have liked to hear the soothing rumble of- ah, don't go there Tony.) He also becomes aware of the lack of sounds of panic or fear, meaning that all civilians fled the area. Seems like at least that plan worked out fine. Just as he manages to push himself into a kneeling position and look up his vision encounters a pair of feet.

Dark leather boots, kinda old – like, straight out of a medieval costume party old – and all polished and shining. Dark leather pants, same thing there. And then...

Tony's eyes bulge and he nearly does a double-take as tries to verify what he is seeing. And then he can't help himself but blurt out his first thoughts.

"Dude, are you like, a porn star? Or a wrestler? Even both?"

Because really, who the fuck walks around bare-chested these days? The stranger even has hair as black as the night which reaches down to the middle of his back. His chest looks really chiseled with all those gleaming muscles and, is he freshly oiled or something? He looks as if he is straight out of a vampire chick-novel, complete with this very manly face and dark – probably super-mysterious or something – eyes. Tony can swear his mind is making some definite retching sounds.

"Impudent mortal."

Ah, and now the stranger looks very annoyed. Tony is definitely pleased now, seeing how his words must have hit straight home. The man however appears not very amused. His eyes narrow, gain intensity and flash purple for a second. Tony has all of the time to think 'Not again, ugh!' when, before anything can hit him, a pearly white energy shield shimmers to life right in front of him. The invisible whatever that was aimed at him hits the shield with a bang and blast that would probably knock Tony off his feet. Instead, it seems to bounce back into the stranger who gets hurled several feet into the air, hair whipping around him, before he crashes into the ground, probably a good dozen feet away.

Tony involuntarily smirks. 'Not bad.'

As the dust settles the stranger's face has contorted in rage as he snarls at someone behind Tony.

"You!"

Tony deems the moment safe enough to finally stand up and turn around to get a look at whoever saved him. The woman is tall, probably even taller than Pepper. She is good-looking though kind of average. Not very skinny but with a decent helping of female curves. Her brown hair is nondescript, the fringe parted to the side where a dark hair clip holds it in place. With her button-down gray blouse and the bright blue jeans she looks so very normal that Tony would have almost dismissed her as a civilian.

Except for the wicked smile on her lips and the pure hatred in her eyes.

"Malak." She says and conveys exactly how she feels about the stranger. The man doesn't reply. He only raises his hands, intent on doing another know-knows-what. The woman sneers.

"Not on my watch, pimp."

(Tony notices in delight how she pops her p's.)

And with a simple notion of her own hands, she sends her own _something_ hurling forward. It rushes through Tony; he can feel a jolt pass through him and he is sure his reactor stutters strangely, but while he remains otherwise unruffled, the stranger gets hit and is blown far, far away. Tense seconds trickle by but he doesn't reappear again. Tony can't help but sigh in relief. His attention shifts towards the woman who seems to come to the very same conclusion as him, not in the least bit bothered by it. 'Out of sight, out of mind,' Tony thinks as the woman turns her gaze on him for the first time. The ferocity leaves her features as she smiles at him.

"You must be Tony Stark."

"And you, fair beauty, seem to have saved my life." He answers with a flourish, making her chuckle quietly. Without hesitation she closes the distance between them. As she comes to stand in front of him, she holds out her hand.

"You may call me Bethanie."

His suit whines again as he meets her hand-shake. All of sudden he is aware of his injuries and the state of his armor. The woman, Bethanie, he reminds himself, seems to become aware of it as well as she frowns worriedly.

"Can you get out of the suit on your own?"

Knowing that he is about to make himself very vulnerable but left with no other option he doesn't reply, instead hits the hidden buttons that unlock the suit. With pitiful sounds due to the damage and underlined by his yelps and groans of pain the suit becomes undone and falls off him with a clank. Bereft of his armor, Tony notices the poor state of his body as his knees give in. A surprisingly strong arm snakes around his torso and holds him upright.

"I can't do much about your injuries right now. Our priority is getting away from here first. We need to evade authorities and I'm not sure how much time Malak needs to recover. I can get us away from here without anyone seeing us. But I can't take your suit with us."

Surprised by the sudden proximity to her he inhales her fresh scent and looks down on his suit. He knows that, if he could take it home, it would only take a few days to repair the entire thing again. But it seems that time has become a luxury, and the ache in his limbs reminds him strongly of other priorities.

"I'm not letting others play with my toys."

"I could destroy it."

Her voice is soft, almost gentle. He still shakes his head.

"I'm not letting them have a single piece. They shouldn't even have a screw."

What he doesn't say, is that it would also help them if he reads her intentions correctly. They could go undercover if nobody finds any remains of the suit.

"I would obliterate it completely."

Her words pierce the fuzziness of his mind.

"That would bend some major laws of physics-"

"Or require an unhealthy amount of energy. I know. I'm a physics teacher."

He finally nods with consent but before he can voice the questions his waking curiosity is demanding he can feel her tensing. He turns his head to watch her face closely and witnessing how, after narrowing her eyes, a purple glimmer flashes through them. When she relaxes mere seconds later he disbelievingly looks to the ground.

True to her word, the suit is gone. Entirely. Without a single sound, or trace, or anything. He lets out the breath he's been holding as his brain starts working furiously.

"Huh. That's some neat talent you got there. There are some places where it could really come in handy."

She grins as she reaches for his arm and slings it over her shoulder.

"Really? Are you offering me a position, Mr. Stark?"

"Ah, call me Tony, please," he says with an ease of mind his body doesn't reflect as they sluggishly start moving to wherever she is guiding them.

"Well then, _Tony_, you made it sound as if you already had an idea in mind as to _where _I should make us of this considerable talent."

"Aren't you a sly little fox, little Beth? I can call you Beth, right?"

"I haven't been called that since I was a child," she chuckles again, "But I guess it's alright."

As they round the corner, Tony almost stops in his tracks.

"We're leaving with a motorbike?"

But Bethanie only smiles and keeps dragging him to the albeit tasteful vehicle. It is a heavy machine in a dark blue color that matches the proudly displayed BMW logo quite well. A helm is lying on the front seat and when they come to a stop Bethanie secures another helmet from the heck coffer, along with a jacket.

"Oh please..," Tony huffs under his breath but carefully accepts the helmet offered.

"Safety first. Plus, while you may be safe with me like with no other person around, I don't like tempting Fate. She's a cruel bitch if you ask me and it wouldn't do to lose you in a simple accident just after saving you from that pimp," she says as she puts on the leather jacket.

Tony has to admit to himself that this woman is quite different from any other woman he has met. She is not like his delicate Pepper - fragile body but a sharp mind and an iron backbone. Or like vicious Natasha – deceptively harmless looking but calculated and deadly underneath. No, this woman definitely is her own brand of woman. Oozing confidence out of every pore but with the determination and whatever weirdo powers she has to actually back her up.

"You got any other mojo to keep me tight and seated?"

She throws him a smirk and swings her leg over the machine to get on her seat.

"Actually, just for you I got this_ special mojo_. Just in case you end up swooning."

He rolls his eyes but climbs on behind her.

"One last question...," he asks as she starts the engines. She turns towards him with a curious look. "Who are you in the greater scheme of things?"

She throws him the same wicked smile she gave Malak. But instead of hatred, he can only find fierce pride in her eyes.

"I'm the Gamemaster."

And without another word she closes her visor and he barely has the time to mimic the motion before she speeds off.

* * *

So much for that.

~Leena


	11. Eleven - The Apple of Knowledge

**The Nature of the Beast and the Beast of Nature**

**Summary: **What happens when, after all that supernatural, alien craziness; the Avengers come across…God. The omnipotent being that created Earth and humanity, kinda. Good news: He exists. Bad news: He's gone. As they race against All That Is Evil to save the Earth, they realize that Fate is a cruel mistress and has a very twisted sense of humor. TonyxBruce, post-Avengers, completely disregards IM3

**Genre:** Adventure, Mystery, Romance (in that order)

**Pairings:** TonyxBruce, NathashaxClint, PepperxHappy

**Disclaimer:** None of the Avengers belong to me but are already claimed by Marvel (what a shame). Bethanie Millstein is mine.

**Author's Note: **Who could ever get enough of Tony? I'm going to stick with him for a while longer and oh, stay tuned for all the little hints! For those of you who aren't too familiar with Marvel lore; Wakanda is a country in equatorial Africa. It's the home-land of T'Challa, also known as Black Panther, husband of Storm (that stormy X-(Wo)Man). It is special in the Marvel Universe because a long long time ago a meteorite containing large quantities of Vibranium landed there. That actually is a really rare (and extraterrestrial) metal; Cap's shield is made out of it, thus worth several fortunes. Wakandans are very protective of their country and that metal, very secretive people, according to Marvel the most technologically advanced society on Earth. Yet, they still stick to old traditions and beliefs. The two new names in this chapter are derived from the Yoruban language, which is supposed to be spoken in Wakanda, next to Wakandan itself. Amazing what you can find in the world wide web.

But enough of that! Special thanks go to **Kama-Chann** (who so kindly mentioned me on her tumblr) and one anonymous **Guest**. Let me just say, I write as much as I can, and as quick as I can type. But I'm very much entirely dependent on my muse. My base of scraps is growing larger and larger but it's still difficult to connect all of them into neat chapters. I'm trying to make chapters longer though...at least by a few hundred words :P

* * *

**Eleven – The Apple of Knowledge**

When Tony becomes conscious again he opens his eyes blearily. His mind is taking a long time to get in gear so he doesn't quite know why his body aches like shit. He is lying on a soft but small sofa, a woolen blanket spread over him – it's warm, but it itches. Underneath the blanket he only wears his underwear but to his surprise he discovers a number of tight bandages that snake around his body. Whoever did this patch-up job seemed to have been smart enough to leave his arc reactor uncovered. Finding comfort in the familiar pale blue light he studies his surroundings. He doesn't get very far as footsteps approach from somewhere behind him.

Groaning like an old man - because damn, that must be the mother of all aches – Tony turns around. At the sight of the woman in the doorway, his memory comes rushing back, along with a neat pounding headache.

"You're awake, good."

He groans a little bit more – which, doubt as you like, counts as a legitimate response in his opinion. Especially considering the state of his body. His undying love for the woman climbs up another steps as she chuckles in understanding.

"I know, you probably feel like shit and, guess what, you even look like it too!"

Okay, maybe she can burn in hell.

Bethanie steps around the sofa and, ignoring his death glare, takes the blanket and pulls it away from him. His glare becomes indignant and there is something else because – _fuck, he's exposed, it's exposed_ - but she only has eyes for the bandages. He watches suspiciously as she bends down to take a closer look at some of them.

"I think we did quite a good job on you. You passed out not even ten minutes out of town and I couldn't exactly do anything for you in the middle of nowhere. When we patched you up and you still didn't wake up, I was starting to get worried."

She catches his gaze before she looks down again and this time he knows for sure that she is looking at his Arc reactor. It startles him more than he'd ever admit when she suddenly brings forth her hand and brushes across the surface of it, tracing the ring of metal so very softly as if she's afraid it might break.

"For a moment, I thought something was wrong with it. Is _is_ keeping you alive after all. We could take care of the rest of your body, but this? Not exactly my forte." Bethanie leans back again, giving him enough space to sit up properly.

"What time is it?" Tony asks as he stretches his limbs, wincing at their soreness.

"School's almost out."

He levels an incredulous stare at her. "Say what?"

"Ah...I'm a high school teacher actually," she admits with a hint of embarrassment, "so I usually measure a day by that routine." When she doesn't elaborate he just shrugs his shoulders thoughtlessly which rewards him with another painful wince. She doesn't really put up a fight against the grin that blooms on her lips.

"Oh fuck off," he mumbles under his breath, making her grin stretch further. She doesn't make a move to help him as he struggles to get up, and for a moment he is absurdly grateful for it. As cool as this woman is he is not exactly a fan of close proximity or touching strangers – even handshakes are awful, but those count under necessary evil.

"Keep the blanket, for now," she says as she motions for him to follow her. He complies immediately, smartly turning the blanket into some sort of toga, which will leave his arms and hands free to use. "I'm going to get you something to dress soon, but I think you should get fed first, then I'll get those clothes and then we'll have our War Council."

"I suppose you will also introduce me to this mysterious friend of yours." When she blinks questioningly, he rolls his eyes. "Come on, 'we did this' and 'we did that' doesn't exactly slip by, you know. I'd even guess it's someone who's good at patching people back together."

She rewards him with a loop-sided smile.

"Right."

Tony does one last look around the room – it must be a living room even with the complete lack of technology (who could possibly do that?) - but other than that he can only note the simple dark walls and shut blinds. According to Bethanie it would still be bright as hell outside which means they must have shut them out of consideration for his head. He isn't used to shut blinds, after all sunglasses have so much more style...

After they pass the simple door from which the woman entered they walk further along a short hallway – the floor is made off wood, the walls are covered by dark gray tapestry and there are no decorations or any other hints as to who lives here except for the multitude of albeit unlit candles. Bethanie enters a door to the left and Tony blinks in the sudden brightness of what he quickly recognizes as a spotless and awfully white kitchen. A microwave is emitting a low thrum and there's a muted TV playing in the background. What captures his attention however, is the bald man sitting there, elbow on the table, head propped up on the hand. His simple white linen shirt stands out against the inky blackness of his skin. His eyes are like dark coals, burning holes into Tony from underneath low lashes.

"Good Afternoon, Mister Stark."

And oh god, he could probably give Morgan Freeman a run for his money. His voice is deep and rumbling as if it touches right into your heart or soul or whatever and places the words there. Even Tony has to admit that it strikes a chord in him.

"Ah, hi. You must've patched me up. Thanks for that."

For a moment he considers shaking the strangers hand, just as a sign of good manners. But when the man makes no move to change anything about his lazy position he lets the thought drop entirely.

"Oriya, why don't you make me some of your famed coffee."

He doesn't even look at her, keeping his head tilted, eyes locked on Tony.

"Well now, Mister Stark, why don't you sit down and wait for our Little Oriya to get you your meal," he says and only now he straightens and motions with his head towards the seat opposite him. His lips open to stretch into a grin and his gleaming white teeth seem to sparkle. "You must be starving."

Just then, the microwave rings and from the corner of his eyes Tony can watch Bethanie open the door and take out a large cup which she sets down right in front of him. There's a miniature panther drawn own it, a mouse in it's paws with. He can read 'I'm a fearsome predator' next to it. When he sniffs at the hot content he catches a heavy scent of cocoa.

"A hot chocolate?"

Bethanie throws him a smirk before she opens a cupboard and produces a very familiar bottle.

"With a little Irish helping." She smirks and pours the whiskey into the steaming cup. The drink is suddenly looking so much better that Tony forgets his partiality and hastily grabs the cup to take a sip.

Only to burn his tongue.

"Goddammit!"

The woman snickers and he isn't preoccupied enough to not throw her a dark glare. She, however, seems to ignore it entirely as she turns back to bustle around the kitchen, producing items from various cupboards. Somewhere in between she starts making sandwiches and Tony watches in fascination as she places the weirdest combinations on them. No really, who combines chocolate with eggs and ketchup? That just screams wrong on so many levels that Tony shudders...in anticipation.

"Et voilà!"

With a flourish she puts the sandwiches and a tiny bowl with tomato and cucumber salad in front of him. Before he can indulge, she snaps her fingers and hurries to procure an apple that she quickly cuts into neat little and very edible pieces. After putting them on a tiny plate which she sets down next to him she signals that she's finished. Turning around a chair she sits down, propping her hands and head on its back.

It feels really odd but Tony has definitely withstood worse so he simply ignores the sudden double-stare and munches happily. He has to admit his surprise at how good everything tastes, but it might also just be due to the fact that he is starving, making this food pretty much heavenly in his book. As he chews on his last sandwich, he looks up suddenly.

"You haven't even told me your name."

But instead of waiting for an answer as most people would do, he ducks back down to take another bite. When he looks back up, the man is wearing that gleaming smile again.

"You shall call me Olukö, as that is what I am."

Tony pokes between his teeth with his tongue as he looks up, trying to figure out what that man might mean with his words. But there is no language he knows of where anything would resemble that name. With a mental shrug he takes the last sip of his Irish chocolate.

"Alright, I'm done for. Where are my clothes?"

But Bethanie only frowns and motions towards the remaining two slices of the apple.

"You should eat all of it."

"Why? I'm stuffed."

She just rolls her eyes but there is no grin on her lips and he knows she is serious.

"Eat them, you'll thank me later."

The change in demeanor makes him comply and just as he swallows the last bite, the man, Olukö, stands up.

"Let us get you patched up," he says and closes in on Tony, who suddenly watches with wide eyes.

"Wait, what? I thought - didn't you patch me up already? I mean, then what are all these-"

But he has no time to finish his panicked words as Olukö places his hands on his shoulders. Then and there, Tony is sure he will die. From one moment to the other his body is burning, his blood boiling, lava running through every limb. The entire world turns white and he completely loses all sense of reality. What are these people doing with him? He can't feel his body, he is nothing but a thought in this sea of endless white heat.

Just as quickly, he falls back down from the high. Blinking rapidly he can see Bethanie still seated on her chair, and Olukö still standing next to him, hands no longer touching him. Angry and confused, he stands up rapidly, the chair falling to the ground noisily.

"What the -"

And suddenly he is ware of his body...of his very healthy body. It's all gone. The pain, the soreness, the bone-deep ache. He feels completely refreshed, his head as clear as it hasn't been in a long time, limbs relaxed, his entire body pulsing with energy. He imagines this is what people feel like after a good meal and a long nap. Full of radiating energy, fresh and renewed. Even the tightness in his chest has loosened somewhat. With wonder he lifts his arms, spreads his fingers, stretches his neck. Not a single nuisance, everything works perfectly.

In fact, he can't remember the last time he has felt so great.

He stares at the man in amazement.

"Man, that's like, a really neat talent you got there. I know places where that would come in really handy."

Bethanie's sudden laugh eases any lingering tension.

"And I bet you know just the place for him."

He just winks at her in response, making her laugh more.

"How did you do that?" There is genuine interest in his voice now even as Olukö turns to pour himself a cup of coffee. Bethanie answers instead.

"It's a fairly simple process. He accelerates your body's self-healing. The food you ate was kind of important as it gave your body the energy it required. You should actually be hungry now, again. And since the food was all healthy and good, it got turned into a general well-being."

"How can he do that?"

"He's a mystic, a shaman. He can tap into nature and energies and stuff."

"Huh. I wonder where today's _shamans_ come from." He mutters under his breath as he blinks. Olukö hears it and shares a tight smile.

"I'm from Wakanda. We take this world's magic still very serious. This is our reward for staying close to nature."

Tony almost doubles over at the name of the African state. He knows that not even S.H.I.E.L.D has good contacts to Wakanda as their society takes their seclusion fairly serious. He knows their king has some history with Reed Obnoxious Richard's team, but he didn't know much more than that.

Except for the fact that they harbor the world's largest amount of Vibranium.

Suddenly, it all makes so much more sense.

"I see."

A weird silence starts to settle but before Tony can follow his urge to fill the silence with useless babble Bethanie intervenes by standing up.

"Alright, how about I get you your clothes while you eat some cookies to get back some more energy."

Smiling with what he has become to recognize as her devious smile she turns and searches the white cupboards until she finds several jars with all kinds of cookies.

(It's not his fault that he studies her rear as she stretches for one of the higher cupboards. He is able to appreciate the finer things in life after all.)

"Sweet mother of Jesus, you must be the Cookie Fairy or something." And before she can form any kind of reply he happily starts munching the very first cookie he can grab. With a laugh she just shakes her head and leaves the kitchen, hopefully getting some decent clothes. Because he has to admit: Eating cookies when snuggled in a woolen blanket is almost as bad as eating bread in bed.

And anyone who's ever done that would know exactly what he is going through.

* * *

So much for that, hope you enjoyed.

~Leena


	12. Twelve - War Council I

**The Nature of the Beast and the Beast of Nature**

**Summary: **What happens when, after all that supernatural, alien craziness; the Avengers come across…God. The omnipotent being that created Earth and humanity, kinda. Good news: He exists. Bad news: He's gone. As they race against All That Is Evil to save the Earth, they realize that Fate is a cruel mistress and has a very twisted sense of humor. TonyxBruce, post-Avengers, completely disregards IM3

**Genre:** Adventure, Mystery, Romance (in that order)

**Pairings:** TonyxBruce, NathashaxClint, PepperxHappy

**Disclaimer:** None of the Avengers belong to me but are already claimed by Marvel (what a shame). Bethanie Millstein is mine.

**Author's Note:** Not much to say. Would have been seriously long, so I had to cut it in the middle. If it's weird because of that, tell me. Thus, next chapter will come soon again. And, as you probably already expect: special thanks to **Kama-Chann. **I'm starting to grow dependent on your kind words :)

* * *

**Twelve – War Council I**

When Bethanie comes back with clothes under her arms, Tony has eaten almost six giant cookies and just as many smaller ones. In between enjoying the crunchy bits he has asked Olukö what felt like hundreds of questions concerning Wakanda or his life or shamanism. He didn't get many answers but he is still very pleased with himself.

"There is a bathroom at the end of the hall, you can get changed in there and _refresh_ yourself if you feel like it." Bethanie says it all in a businesslike tone even though some sarcasm shines through at the end. When she doesn't exactly hands him the things but puts them on the table just within his reach he grows suspicious.

"How do you know about the 'not handing things' policy?"

She seems to be very pleased with herself all of sudden.

"Oh please, Tony. You are a public figure, anything from your shoe size to birthday to your habits can be found online. And as you noticed, we don't exactly play by the normal rules. It's hard to keep anything secret from people like us."

"Right," he mutters as he picks up the clothes. And without another world he trails out of the kitchen, back into the dimly lit hallway. He follows it further and past a turn until he reaches two doors opposite of each other. One must be the front door of the house, he opens the other one and finds himself in a really small and simple bathroom. The light reflects in the gray tiles on both the walls and the ground. The sink and toilett look straight out of the 80's, only the showers seems to be slightly more modern. A red towel with some golden embroidery lies on a tiny little stool. On top of the towel is a note.

_Thought you might appreciate the color._

Tony can't help himself but grin. This Bethanie is climbing higher and higher in his graces.

He quickly goes through the usual motions, mind wandering randomly until he stares at himself in the mirror. He thinks he looks really good (duh, he always does) but completely relaxed and yet energetic. He smirks, he smiles, he winks. 'Man , I'm fabulous,' he thinks before dropping the towel to get into the new clothes. He is surprised to find a tight, dark body-suit. He wonders what it is made of, as it's not much worse than the body-suit he usually wears under his armor. The material stretches easily but is definitely not as heavy as some of the kevlar stuff he has seen Romanoff or Rogers wearing. What surprises him more is how perfectly it fits. As if it was specifially tailored to his body.

His brows meet in suspicion. Did she find his measurements online as well?

Filing the question away for later he exits the bathroom, mindful of leaving the door open so the warm and humid air can get out. As he retraces his earlier steps he hears the voices of Bethanie and Olukö, but not from the kitchen but from the open door on the other side of the hallway. Taking their chatter as an inviation he enters the room.

Only to be baffled.

He has been mentally tracing the layout of the place and thought of the last room as the bedroom. Yet he finds no bed in sight, leaving him with no small amount of confusion. Instead, the room is covered with pillows in muted colors but various sizes and states of fluffiness. There is a black table at one of the walls, covered by a white sheet. Scattered on its surface are a potted plant with large leaves, a jar filled with dirt (he has to mentally snicker at that) a bowl filled with water and a lit candle. Next to the tablet on both sides respectively loom two large panther statues; both seated felines, whereas one is looking straight ahead, the other to the side towards the table. With all the voodoo lying scattered around it gives Tony the eerie feeling of weirdness, confusion and curiosity – a heady cocktail, especially when it's connected to Tony. His two newest allies are seated on two of the random pillows, seemingly in a deep and serious – and low enough not to get overheard – conversation and Tony feels good (read: mean and obnoxious) enough to do something about that.

"So, what's the deal?" He blurts loudly and forces them to pay attention to him. Bethanie clears her throat and he swears he can see the hint of annoyance in her eyes but it vanishes under some iron self-control. Tony just grins. It's good to know he can get under her skin if he wants to.

Stalking forward he quickly grabs two of the fluffiest pillows he can find (Strike! They are red.) and plops down on them.

"You know what, you are lacking fingerfood. This whole gypsy wiccan shamnism thing, I mean, you're doing really well with all that voodoo and altar and pillows on the ground. But you should have those handy snacks, so people don't get bored as they sit and listen. Or meditate. Or do magicky stuff." And as if it's the most normal thing in the world he procures a tiny jar from who-knows-where, opens it and starts munching on a cookie. Bethanie only watches in bewilderment.

"Where-, how-," she clears her throat and collects her thoughts, "I mean, when did you get those?"

But Tony just shrugs, "Snatched them earlier, no biggy."

Yet it is a big deal. Because even though their weirdness and magick makes him feel weird and alarmed he still is the Tony Stark, inventor, billionaire and genius. And no matter how different these people are, they are going to be playing by his rules.

"Alright kiddos. Or witches and wizards. First and foremost I really need to get back to New York, maybe even Malibu, don't care much. I need my armor and I need it now, so how about we start thinking about that?"

Olukö just watches silently, resorting to being an observer as Bethanie blinks, but before she can voice her thoughts Tony continues.

"Also, if it's not too much trouble, I'd like to know what kind of pawn you intend me to be."

Whatever she was going to say gets stuck in her throat as she gazes at him with narrowed eyes. Count on the genius to understand that she wants him merely as a puppet in her play. And yet he doesn't protest or resist. He is aware of what is happeneing but he will make it damn straight that he knows of the strings being attached to him and that he will pull at them on occasion.

Hopefully, it'll drive her nuts.

She seems to come to the same conclusion because her expression softens before she rolls her eyes.

"You are delightful, you know that Tony?"

He just grins.

"People tell me all the time."

Another eye-roll later she turns to grab two books that were lying behind her back.

"I know you are more familiar with a more advanced approach to research but for the time being, I think this is going to help. To be honest, I myself only entered this stranger world in my late teens, so even I still don't know everythign there is to know. It's the reason why I sought out K'Lukoya," she motions towards Olukö with her head, and all of sudden Tony understands that 'olukö' must be merely a title, just as whatever it was that he called Bethanie in the kitchen.

"I was told to look for help in Wakanda and of all the mystics I encountered, K'Lukoya was the only one who offered to come back to America with me, in order to teach me. However, even his spiritual powers have been unable to help in this matter. No spell we know off has been able to locate Malak. That I turned up at the same place and at the same time as him is a lucky coincidence, but I can't count on it happening again. What I need," she said with a sudden gravity in her voice, her eyes staring straight into Tony's, "is your technology to find him."

Even before she finishes, his brain kicks into gear. Though she hasn't confirmed it yet, he is pretty sure this Malak was the one messing with nature's laws in the towns that they managed to pick out. And if even her weird mojos can't find the guy, his approach might be more successful. Tony brushes his goatee in thought.

"We should get S.H.I.E.L.D to help then. They are slightly better at getting surveillance and tracking stuff. In fact, it would be incomparatively better if we just went with the rest of my team to-"

"No."

Pulled out of his thoughts he blinks almost owlishly – and damn he's going to start counting those moments so he can pay her back sooner or later – but her face is closed off resolutely.

"No?"

"No."

When she doesn't elaborate, he inquires with narrowed eyes.

"Why not?"

For the first time since he met this strange woman he can see her getting really uncomfortable. She actually starts to fidget; biting her lower lip, fumbling with the sleeve of her blouse.

"Alright, you asked for it, here it goes. Remember when that Asgardian prince came here with his _dillusional_ preachings of conquering this realm? He gained a large number of followers by manipulating their minds. It is a powerful and not as uncommon kind of magic as many want to believe. Malak, for example, is able to weild it with even more efficiency as that Asgardian punk. When it suits his purposes he can put entire cities under his spell. I...know how this kind of magic works. When you were unconscious, I made a very thourough check of your mind. I had to make sure he wasn't controlling you, would be kinda stupid to show him one of my secret lairs. But as it turns out, _you_, for reasons I can only guess, seem to be entirely immune to that kind of magic."

When she finishes she looks at him with confusingly earnest eyes, as if she is both fervently thankful and yet worried by what seems to be an abnormaly. Smirking mentally, Tony decides to give her a little more fodder.

"When your _Asgardian punk_ came here, he used this kind of scepter to mess with people. He tried it on me and man – or woman, no offense," he interjects hastily on second thought and flashes her what is meant as an apologetic hand, "you should have seen his face when it didn't work. Brilliant. I think Jarvis still has security footage of that." Let's see what she makes of that.

To his immense satisfaction her eyes open slightly and become strangely vacant as if her mind starts running through thousand possibilities at once. Yet, as he watches in rapture, her lips start spreading, turning them into a fierce smile and when her mind returns to the here and now he can spot the wicked glint again.

"You are immune. Safe. I can take you to places without ever worrying. I can send you out without wondering. Oh but," she says with something akin to euphoria in her voice but when she sobers within seconds Tony is on edge again, "that does not apply to your team. As far as I know, one of them, the Hawk, was taken last year. Of course I can't be sure about the rest of them, but I'd rather not risk the issue."

"I get it." He just would have liked to do some planning with some of them, especially Bruce.

And just like that, the thought that has been nagging at him since he woke up but that he so consequently managed to ignore is back to the forefront of his mind. Its sudden intensity shoots adrenaline through his system and he can hear his own heartbeat pick up as he leans forward abruptly, startling Bethanie in the process.

"My team! Can you make sure they are fine?"

Bethanie just tilts her head and looks towards Olukö.

"Well, Malak himself was in Appleton, so whereever your teammates were, they should have been fine. The worst that could have happened is an army of mind-controlled people, but I don't think we need to worry about that. Isn't your team capable enough for that? As far as I know, you managed to contain some sort of _alien invasion_ within Manhattan, give those guys some credit."

The way she says 'alien invasion' makes sure he understands how unimpressed she actually is.

"So there is no way you can find them, track them, make sure they are ok?"

Oddly enough she cocks her head to the side as if listening, or thinking, he can't pinpoint exactly.

"I can try to pull in some favors and ask people who _would_ be able to find them. I'll have to call a lot of people anyway, after all I don't think you wanna go to New York with my bike. So we'll need a car."

"And afterwards?"

"We look for Malak, with the help of your technology. Once we've found him, we kill him. Then we cure the damage he has wrought upon the land. Then you go back to your superhero life and I go back to teaching at my High School. You'll forget about me, I'll occasionally watch your back, everyone lives happily ever after." She says it all with a wide and gleaming grin but he doesn't have to be a genius to see the mockery in that. And the wish to gloss things over and just get done with it. He, however, has never been known to care much about how other people feel or what they think.

"How do you plan on killing him? From what I've seen he can do telekinesis and mind-control and who knows what. Are you so much stronger?"

The grin she flashes him is starting to become her trademark grin; fierce and wicked and almost inhuman.

"You've seen me create shields and manipulate kinetic forces. But trust me, I've got a little more up my sleeve. I know how to cleanse the land. And I know how to kill someone like him. It will be hard, but not impossible."

"_How_ to kill him? As in _silver bullets, wooden stake to the heart_ kind of how?"

Again she only smirks at his sarcasm.

"Pretty much, yeah. Not _exactly_ like that, mind you. But I'm gonna need some mythical stuff. The fact that he's from another realm makes this infinitely more complicated."

He he weren't so cool and controlled, Tony would have almost doubled over.

* * *

Next part coming soon. Tell me what you think!

~Leena


	13. Thirteen - War Council II

**The Nature of the Beast and the Beast of Nature**

**Summary: **What happens when, after all that supernatural, alien craziness; the Avengers come across…God. The omnipotent being that created Earth and humanity, kinda. Good news: He exists. Bad news: He's gone. As they race against All That Is Evil to save the Earth, they realize that Fate is a cruel mistress and has a very twisted sense of humor. TonyxBruce, post-Avengers, completely disregards IM3

**Genre:** Adventure, Mystery, Romance (in that order)

**Pairings:** TonyxBruce, NathashaxClint, PepperxHappy

**Disclaimer:** None of the Avengers belong to me but are already claimed by Marvel (what a shame). Bethanie Millstein is mine.

**Author's Note: **Special thanks to **Kama-Chann**! You are delightful as always :D And you did stumble upon a mystery that will be so much fun to fool around with. Because, even though I wasn't explicitly clear on it, meeting Bethanie Millstein (for both the team and Tony) happens on the same day (It's still thursday if you check former chapters). **  
**

Since we managed half of the fic, the next 'chapter' will be an interlude. Something small and full of hidden significance. Stay tuned for that. And after that we'll go back to the team and maybe the sciencebros will become easier to see.

* * *

**Thirteen – War Council II**

"_...The fact that he's from another realm makes this infinitely more complicated."_

_He he weren't so cool and controlled, Tony would have almost doubled over._

"From another realm? He's just another alien punk?"

"Pretty much yeah. Now, don't go running off to blame your Asgardians. As weird as it sounds, they aren't the biggest fishes out there. There's a growing number of realms that are becoming interested in ours, for one reason or another. These kinds of visits will most likely become more and more frequent."

"Great," he mutters under his breath and pushes himself up from his position on the floor, "So what are we waiting for, let's get started."

"I shall seek out friends of mine," Olukö's sudden rumble sounds impossibly deep and Tony wonders how anyone can have a voice like that and still be considered normal. "We will do everything we can to help you, little Oriya. As for you, Tony Stark," he says and Tony finds himself pierced by the coal eyes again, "You will be held responsible if anything happens to our Lady."

In that moment, an alarm goes off inside Tony's brain. There is something in the way Olukö sounds incredibly respectful, more than common courtesy would demand. And he has heard the phrase 'our lady' or 'our lord' often enough in his life to feel the sentiment behind it. And this time it sounded pretty much exactly like all the other times he has heard something similar. Could it be? From under lowered lashes, he studies Bethanie.

She looks completely normal, still the same average woman that you could pass on the street. But her eyes...there is something lurking beneath. Right now there is fondness as she conveys her amused gratitude to Olukö and yet... What did he name it earlier? This fire in her eyes. Feral, and inhuman. He remembers something similar but for the life of him, he can't quite place it. But he knows he has seen it before, and it's just a matter of time until he remembers.

When Bethanie looks back at him he ruthlessly suppresses the train of thought. It's not that he doesn't trust his poker face, but if he is right and this woman is so much more than she appears to be, it's better to be safe than sorry. Yet on second thought...when has he ever cared about safety? He starts smirking manically and tries to convey as much as possible with his face alone. The woman catches on quickly. But instead of rising to the bait as he would have expected she turns away completely.

What the hell? Curiosity washes over him in waves. Before he has time to voice his surprise she gets up as well and fishes a cell phone out of her jeans' pocket.

"I'm gonna make some calls. You should bring back those cookies and grab the books so we can head out." And without another word she stalks out of the room, her phone already on her ear, avoiding Tony's gaze entirely.

Okay, he is definitely onto something.

But for now, he is not going to push the issue, only gloat with the knowledge that he can ferret out juicy secrets. Satisfied he turns around to look at Olukö expectantly. To his surprise, the man is still seated, entirely relaxed and with closed eyes.

"Uh, no offense, but aren't you gonna get in gear as well? Friends to call, places to be?"

When Olukö opens his eyes to look at him without any real expression he bends to pick up the books Bethanie left on the ground, if only to avoid that creepy stare.

"I am doing what I said I would do," Olukö rumbles, "I am contacting allies, seeking their aid and knowledge. I do a is is my duty."

Okaaaay. Tony can totally roll with that. Except, no wait, he can't.

"And you're gonna do that sitting on some fluffy pillow? I mean, no offense, they are awesome, I wouldn't have wanted to get up as well, I'll probably come by later again and steal a few; but buddy, that kind of counts as procrastinating and trust me, I'm an expert at that so I know what I'm talking about."

When the man manages the hint of a smile at the edge of his lips, Tony 's eyes widen in surprise.

"I will enter the spirit world and seek out benevolent creatures that will relay my messages to the ones I have in mind. My friends are not the kind you can contact with a phone. In fact, you might not be able to find them at all if you use modern technology."

And just like that he closes his eyes again and becomes as still as stone, the only sign of him being alive the slight movement whenever he breathes. 'Weirdo' is all Tony can think of before he turns and wanders towards the kitchen where he can hear Bethanie talking quietly on the phone.

"-yes, that would be – no, time is short it's better if you – yes, that's perfect. Thank you so much, dear – Ok, bye."

Before he can form any coherent words to announce his presence, she whirls around and fixes him with a raised eyebrow.

"Alright, there is a car waiting for us at a friend's house. All we gotta do is get there, so how about we get out," she says and without waiting for reply she brushes past him and along the hall. He follows her with annoyance and manages to catch whatever she's throwing at him just in time.

"Here, you can put the books in there."

It's a brown leather bag, the simple kind that Pepper wouldn't even touch on a bad day as it looks straight out of a college student's junk lair. It looks especially worn around the edges but there is a tiny metal charm fixed to one of the clasps. Instead of something fancy it's merely the letter 'B' without any ornaments. Lame. Fitting the books into the bag he watches out of the corner of his eyes how she puts on the leather jacket again. Once she's done she nods pleasantly before opening the front door and getting out without looking back. All of sudden he has to hurry to keep up with her.

"Not even saying bye? That's harsh."

"He wouldn't hear it anyway. And it's just not his style."

Tony looks around in fascination. He hadn't been able to look out earlier as all blinds had been closed so now he has the first chance to actually study the place. It looks fairly rural, the next house is a few hundred yards and the trees all around hinder the view. They must be in a really small town because he can still hear cars running in the distance.

"Where are we?"

"Wild Rose, Wisconsin. It's a safe haven for anything supernatural. When Salem got destroyed, people relocated here. It's been nice so far."

"Wait, there's an entire community of weird mojo people?"

She shrugs as they halt in front of her motorbike.

"There are still normal and oblivious people in town. But there are also many like me, or the _olukö_. Many old so-called gods or other immortals come to America. It's so much easier to live a quiet and simple life, far away from normal people. And America always seems to be in the center of whatever is happening, so it's a good starting point, for both the good and the bad. And the ugly," she adds with a mischievous grin.

This time he doesn't grumble as much when she hands him his helmet.

"It's only about ten minutes so no need to pull that face on me."

* * *

True to her words they arrive at yet another nondescript house exactly ten minutes later. A sleek silver car is waiting in the driveway but no soul is in sight. Without a care in the world Bethanie parks her machine behind the car.

"You can get in already, I'm just gonna go and say hi and thank you and all that."

To his surprise the car is open so he slides in the passenger seat with ease. The keys are lying on the driver's seat, next to a note.

_'Take care of my chariot'_ it reads on the blank side. The paper is thick, the expensive kind that he knows Pepper uses for her business cards as well. Randomly he sniffs it and pulls a face at the albeit faint smell of olives. Who makes his calling cards smell like olives? These people are getting weirder and weirder. Curiously he turns the card but instead of a name and number there only is an olive branch, artistically drawn. Okay, weird squared.

Turning around he looks back towards the house where he can see Bethanie standing at least two feet in front of the door, giving him a perfect view of the other woman standing in there. She must be even taller than Bethanie, long brown curly hair that is pulled up in a lose bun. He can spot something akin to a pale green dress under her seriously long white tunic. Her face is neither old nor young, but the lines are regal and her eyes alone seem to command obedience. However she smiles at something Bethanie says and extends her hand. Something glinting, probably coins of some kind, change the owner. The unknown woman nods once before retreating and closing the door.

When Bethanie returns to the car he wordlessly hands her the note which makes her chuckle quietly.

"So that was one of your friends."

"Yep," she says as she buckles her seat-belt, waiting with raised eyebrows for him to do the same, "Her name is Athene and she's one of the few I actually get along with. She's sometimes a bit fierce but very loyal and a good tactician."

The clues add up. At first he completely dismisses the thought. A Greek goddess hanging around in a cute little house in some god-forsaken rural town in Wisconsin, America? But then he thinks of Loki and Thor. Thor, the royal behemoth of a man who could spar with the Hulk on a daily basis and find joy in it. Who calls down thunder and lightening in his pastime and flies around as if it's the most normal thing in the world. And then there's Loki, Trickster and mischief-maker number one, scourge of Manhattan; someone who could have possibly been one of Tony's closer friends if he wasn't already enjoying the cookies on the Dark Side. So why not?

He voices his thoughts out loud. Bethanie smiles genuinely.

"Yes, Athene as in Greek goddess of wisdom and warfare Athene. She's not a goddess per se, though in the old days she was worshiped as one. There are so many of her kind out there, trust me you'd get dizzy. Most of humanity's religions, myths or fairytales are based on those pretty much immortal beings that were either born here or came to visit and decided to stay."

Tony snorts.

"So what, they have their part in history and humanity's development but then they get bored and drop out?"

"Pretty much yeah. A whole bunch of them even left Earth again or, at least that's what I guess, died. There still are many out there, but they aren't as numerous anymore as the combined number from myths and stories. I'm rather fond of the Greek ones, they did nice things to the society they supervised. The Romans wanted to copy them but kinda overdid it, nasty bunch that lot. Awful to hang around with, all very hypocritical and most of the time all high and mighty."

"I'd still wanna meet them. Didn't they also have gods of wine and drinking? Those must be the hit at any party."

She only gives him a short smile before turning her attention to the roads. Once she starts the engine, the car hums pleasantly and Tony has too agree that the car is not a complete loss. He remains silent for the time they need to get out of town, too engrossed in studying what he can see. But it is boring, not a soul in sight, despite being late afternoon. It bugs him, but he doesn't say it out loud.

"I'm going to put a shield around us as we move. It wouldn't do very good to get picked up by surveillance or authorities. Plus," she adds, this time smiling mischievously, "this way I can completely ignore speed limits."

Silence descends again and for the first time in ages, Tony struggles with his consciousness if he should speak or not. Conclusion have started manifesting in his mind and he can't but help but make more assumptions. He slightly turns his head to study the woman. Should he give it a shot?

Hell yeah.

"So, Beth, I've been wondering. You give me all these hints and say things that you know must get my attention. What's the deal then?"

She doesn't turn to look at him when she replies.

"Like I said, I'm the Gamemaster."

"So, why is that? What's your_ master plan_? What is it that you want, out of this whole issue?"

She laughs, shortly, abruptly.

"My plan? Sweetheart, there is no _end-spiel_ here. I'm doing my job."

And all of sudden, Tony can read the line underneath.

_It's what I'm meant to do._

And he replies in kind.

"Your duty."

_What you are forced to do. _

"Protection. Guarding."

_I'm doing something good. I'm helping._

"The world."

_The world doesn't always want help._

"The world."

_It still needs it._

"I'm the pawn, you're the queen?"

_You're using me while you make the big moves._

"You're the queen, I'm the player."

_I'm using you _to make_ the big moves. I'm not a part in it._

"Black or white?"

_You need to stop slinking in the gray. _

"They went first."

_They started breaking the rules. Now it's my turn._

"Who sits on the other side."

_Just take out the big bad evil._

"Someone who has been playing for millennia."

_I'm not strong enough._

And that's the deal, he realizes. Because even though this Bethanie is trying to do something good, and though she has most of the required knowledge, she lacks something basic. Power. Force.

_'...who has been playing for millennia.' _

_'...entered this world in my late teens.'_

A light-bulb goes on above his head. What this Bethanie lacks is time and experience. Whatever it is that she is or what she is doing, she is fairly new. Young. He turns a critical eye on her. She's what, something thirty-ish? Which means she must have had about 15 years to learn her craft. And she's playing against someone who's been there for..._forever_. No wonder she's desperate. And then another puzzle piece clicks into place. She has been searching for allies. For friends. People to teach her, to help her. Because most of all, little Beth is alone.

Entirely alone.

Now, isn't that depressing?

...and familiar?

Tony snorts silently and turns his head.

"I'm gonna nap. Don't hold your breath."

And just like that, he ignores her presence and descends into that blissful state of physical unawareness that other people think is sleep but to him, it's a playground for his brain. To think, to ponder, _to scheme._

* * *

~Leena


	14. Interlude A

**Interlude - One**

* * *

**Tony **

_Tony dreams. Tony thinks dreams are weird. He is not overly conscious of it but also not oblivious. He is at a fair, the lights twinkle around him and he can hear merry music. Bells are chiming, there's the laughter of children and the chatter of parents. He decides he wants to try his luck at the lottery. So he goes to find the booth and once he's there, he finds Bethanie, selling tickets. She looks so serious and almost sad. Unlike the real Bethanie. There's a pitch-black monkey on her shoulder. It watches him with large eyes the color of coal. It smiles and shows him gleaming teeth, in stark contrast to the black fur._

_He buys three tickets and he pays not with coins but with innocence and years. Bethanie smiles sadly and gives him the tickets. 'Look,' she says, 'Look around. You can win any of these, if you just get enough points.' So he looks around. There's a Universe and it costs 60 points, a Star for 35, a Planet looking much like Earth for only 10 points. There is Progress and Fame and both cost 3 points. There is war and peace, but war only costs 4 points, whereas peace costs 7. He thinks that's not really fair. His eyes glue to Inventions. It costs 2 points and he knows he wants it._

_Like a child – because that's what he is; a child - he rips the tickets open with expectations. Only two points. He takes one Inventions but all that tumble out are Weapons and Blood and Pain. He is upset and looks at Bethanie with pleading eyes._

_'You want to try again?' she asks. He nods and sticks his hand in his pocket. He doesn't have any more change. Oh, he was wrong. He finds one last coin. It is ignorance. He knows he needs it but he is sure he can fake it. Beaming, he sticks out his hand, Ignorance flickering innocently. Bethanie looks at him with pity, but takes the coin._

_'One last try' she says and hands him a ticket. He opens it with trepidation. Two points. He points towards another Invention. 'That one'. She takes it and passes it to him. This time, it's the Iron Man suit. It comes with Betrayal and Family and Friends; flashes of Pepper and Rhodey and Happy, Steve and Thor, Clint and Natasha. And Bruce. Always Bruce. He also really likes the Feeling-of-Freedom that clings to Flying. 'Thank you,' he says to Bethanie but she only gives him a very sad smile. 'Enjoy it,' she says and before he can ask her why she is so sad, he wakes up._


	15. Interlude B

**A/N: **Unfortunately I couldn't finish the new chapter before leaving for my two weeks of vacation so I decided to at least give you this little snippet.

* * *

**Interlude – Two**

* * *

**Clint**

_Clint dreams. Clint hates dreaming since New York. And while this one might seem nice, it brings up too many memories of a time long ago when...no, it's not the time to go there. The thought trails away on a breeze and with an eased mind, Clint takes in his surroundings in detail. It's a fair, and the lights and colors and sounds are so familiar, it opens the well of unbearable sadness within. But he doesn't look away. There are faces and people all around, families and children and clowns and entertainers. So many people but he recognizes none of them. All strangers. Strangers that don't care about the little boy, standing lost and forlorn in the middle of the crowd._

_In the distance, he catches a familiar face. Isn't that Tasha? He starts running but the grown-ups get in the way and when someone bumps into him he loses sight of her. Heartache buries him like a tidal wave. But he must not cry. Nobody should see his tears. So he blinks as hard as he can to avoid the wetness trailing down his cheeks. _

_There is a shooting range to his right. They advertise archery. A professional eye wanders over the bows and the arrows and the distance to the aims. Too easy, he thinks and approaches. Another familiar face greets him. It's Bethanie Millstein. He can't remember how he knows her, but he knows that he does and he knows she is no threat. She smiles at him with sadness in her eyes.'You want to try your luck?' she asks. He shakes his head. 'Not luck, it's skill.' And he pulls a coin from his pocket and he knows it is sanity but he doesn't think about it too long, just hands her the currency. 'Just one shot' he says confidently. She nods and hands him a bow with one purple arrow. 'Good luck,' she says and sweeps to the side._

_He takes the bow and draws it once to test its flexibility. It's good, he thinks before switching into the best stance. Feet apart, gaze locked on the target. The twinkling music vanishes and he blocks out any other sight. There is only him and the target. The bulls-eye. Blue and white and red. He breathes out, then lets the arrow fly. He knows he is good and he knows his limits. The arrow hits the very center, and smoothly buries itself in the soft flesh. The target turns around and it's Phil and there is blood and so much blue and white and red. Always red._

_Clint cries in agony when he understands what has happened and crumbles to the ground. Gentle arms soften his fall and he can swear there is a soothing voice mumbling in his ear. He can see the face of Bethanie Millstein and there are tears in her purple eyes and stars in her hair and then she cries silently with him. 'Lady Luck was not on your side. Don't grow too confident again.' She lets him go and drifts away. 'Good luck,' she mouths and vanishes into the twinkling lights and myriad of colors._

_And Clint wakes and he remembers nothing._


End file.
